


Blackbird

by Okadiah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Found Family, Ghost Crew - Freeform, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, No Smut, References to Addiction, Slow Burn, blind!kanan, minor torture, not drugs though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 249,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hera and crew are sent on mission to recruit Kanan and Ezra, who operate as vigilante assassins fighting the Empire, into the rebellion. But Kanan’s dark past and darker tendencies make the chances of the mission’s success slim.</p><p>It’s a good thing Hera, Ezra, and the crew don’t give up easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission Brief

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m back again, but this time with a full story plot! Feel I should warn you now that I haven’t done a story as long as I’ve got this one planned out for before, so we’ll see how it all goes :] Updates should be on Sundays and I’ll do my best to keep them. Tags will also change as the story grows. 
> 
> I do want to say that though this fic draws heavily on the Kanan comics and A New Dawn for backstory, if you haven't read them, don't worry! My divergence goes back pretty far into Kanan's life and I have chapters prepared to explain everything so don't feel daunted if it feels like you're missing a huge chunk of information or that you're missing out, because you're not. Just wanted to put that out there.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> UPDATE (July 29, 2018): I've edited the fic as best I could, and it should read much cleaner than it originally did. Nothing major was changed, it's still the exact same story just cleaner :]

Hera nodded respectfully to Fulcrum, now that her rebellion informant had arrived in this small, forgotten restaurant in the middle of nowhere where Hera had been waiting. It was rare to see the Togruta in person, but on those occasions Hera did, it was always a pleasure. They were both strong women devoted to a future free from the Empire, and although she loved her crew dearly for all their quirks and courage, the calm conviction Fulcrum brought with her made it feel as if such a future were truly within reach. That the endless missions would one day bear fruit.

Today Fulcrum had another mission for Hera and her  _Ghost_  crew. And it was a big one if the Togruta had insisted on coming to meet Hera herself, instead of communicating as they generally did via comms.

"Welcome, Fulcrum. I hope your journey here was safe."

"Greetings, Hera," the Togruta echoed amiably as they walked together to an empty booth in the back, away from prying eyes and ears. "My trip here was quiet and uneventful."

"That's good to hear," Hera said as she slipped into her side of the booth as Fulcrum did the same across from her. Immediately a waitress came by and asked for their order and returned a moment later with their meal before leaving them alone again. "The Empire has been particularly thorough with their checkpoints lately. I know I had a bit of trouble working around them."

"Yes, they've been more of a hassle than usual," agreed the Togruta as she used a utensil to push the food on her plate around to make it appear as if she'd eaten, when it was clear she wouldn't be. "I was concerned that we might run into problems attending this meeting and would need to set up another."

"It was hard enough setting up this one," Hera sighed as she reached for her water. Face-to-face meetings like this were rare and far between, given how much time and care went into planning them. This one had been set up almost a month in advance, and it had been a challenge for Hera to make the meeting at all. But she'd managed. Whatever Fulcrum had to say to her in person must be important if a comm channel wasn't secure enough for the Togruta.

They continued their meal with idle chatter meant to bore or throw anyone off who might be listening in, but Hera sensed Fulcrum was getting around to the meat of the conversation, slowly but surely. It was in a strange way, however. Usually Fulcrum was sure and prepared about what she planned to say and how she was going to assign a mission, but every time Hera was certain Fulcrum was about to bring it up, the Togruta would broach another topic. It was strange behavior, and after a while Hera said as much.

"It's unlike you to be so ... cagey," Hera said quietly as she furrowed her brow at Fulcrum. "Is the next assignment that worrisome?"

The Togruta frowned as she swept her finger along the condensation of her glass, looking into it for a long moment before she finally said, "Not exactly. I suspect that it will be merely ... difficult." Fulcrum lifted her blue eyes. "Have you heard in your travels the codenames 'Reaper' and 'Rider'?"

It took all of Hera's control not to let her eyes widen in surprise. The Reaper and the Rider? The mission was about them?

Flashes of memory forced their way to the front of her mind as if violently summoned, memories of five years ago where she and a rag-tag group had stopped a madman from destroying Gorse and its moon, Cynda. Not for the first time did the image of a man with a smug and playful smile and strange blue eyes war with the cool and calculated destruction the gunslinger had left behind him when they'd taken down Count Vidian. Destruction which she'd always silently noticed matched the style of the infamous and elusive Reaper.

Was this mission ... was it about him?

"I've heard rumors," Hera finally said with slow, calculated words as she leaned back in her seat, careful to keep her face blank. "They're a team who went active a few years ago and have been fighting the Empire ever since. Not much is known about them, just that wherever they're reported to have been, the Empire is left devastated ... and anyone who gets in their way is permanently taken care of. As far as I know, no one knows who they are. They're like ghosts."

"Yes, all of that is true. Our analysts believe they have a ninety percent mission success rate, and that they've been pivotal in removing key Imperial players off the board." Fulcrum paused, then added pointedly, "We suspect the Reaper might have been involved five years ago in the removal of an Imperial fixer known as Count Vidian. I believe you were on mission to Gorse at that particular time."

A cool wave of complicated emotion slid through Hera, and she sighed. "You think I might know who the Reaper is?"

Fulcrum regarded her patiently. "Do you?"

_Good question_ , Hera admitted to herself as she took a moment to watch the activity of the restaurant around them. It was a question she'd been asking herself for a while now. Was the gunslinger the same man the galaxy knew as the Reaper? The Death Reaper? The Soul Collector? The Beheader?

Hera sighed heavily again because ... yes. He very well might be, even if she was hesitant to admit it. There weren't many people in the galaxy she knew who made a point of killing Imperials via decapitation when it was possible. She really only knew of one.

"There was a man I met on Gorse who employed similar means as the Reaper," Hera admitted. "It's possible that it could have been him."

The Togruta nodded before she asked, "Could you find him?"

The Twi'lek eyed Fulcrum before she slowly guessed, "You want me and my crew to recruit them?"

Fulcrum's eyes brightened with approval, and she smiled at Hera. "That's correct."

Hera looked away from Fulcrum as she thought about what she was going to say. What should she say?

"I don't know if I'll be able to find him," Hera admitted. "It was five years ago, and we didn't exactly keep in contact. I asked him to join back then, but he told me he worked alone. It's a reason why I've been hesitant to say anything about him. The Reaper works with the Rider. The man I knew didn't strike me as the type to work with anyone."

"He worked with you," Fulcrum pointed out and Hera shrugged.

"It was a strange series of events. The entire time we were taking down Vidian, he was trying to find a way to leave. It didn't seem like he wanted to work with me at all, until the Count killed a friend of his."

"And yet, he did work with you. On top of that, what is more surprising is that he didn't kill you after the partnership was over."

Hera's lips thinned as Fulcrum pointed out yet another mystery which had hung on her shoulders for the last five years. The Reaper was a professional, and one reason he was still unknown and anonymous was because he was careful and didn't leave loose ends. He didn't make loose ends.

But it was obvious that to whoever that man had been, Hera was a huge loose end, especially given what she knew about him. What she knew he was capable of.

That he might actually be Jedi.

Another memory surfaced, a tactile memory this time, and she remembered the soft, lingering touch of his fingers as they drifted along her jaw like a promise after she'd offered him a chance to join the rebellion. Right before he'd turned her down and vanished as if he'd never been there at all, denying the dangerous truth of his heritage as he went.

"This is all speculation," Hera said. "The man I met might just as easily not be the Reaper."

"Or he might," Fulcrum countered. "And if he is, perhaps you made more of an impact on him than you think. After all, the Reaper only began working with the Rider not long after the events on Gorse. Perhaps you showed him the value of teamwork."

Hera's brow furrowed. Was that true? She'd only been keeping distant tabs on the Reaper since then and hadn't put together a solid timeline of events. She only knew of his targets and successful missions. Had the Rider appeared after Gorse? And if this was the same man, why had the Reaper turned the rebellion down if he was going to take on the Empire with a partner anyway?

Why had he turned  _her_  down?

"We want you to find them, and convince them to join the rebellion," the Togruta said clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "We need powerful allies if we are to survive the battles to come, and they have proved to be powerful opponents against the Empire. It's time we extend a formal invitation."

Hera wished she felt as confident about this decision as Fulcrum did. Given her parting conversation five years ago with the man who might be the Reaper, she wasn't sure Fulcrum or the rebellion would get the outcome they wanted. After all, he'd turned her down back then and vanished.

But ... who knew? It _had_ been five years ... maybe his perspective had changed. If he was the Reaper, he wasn't fighting alone anymore like he'd said he would. He had a partner, the enigmatic Rider. Even less information was available about that character. No gender, no age, no definite skills. All that was known was the story of how the Rider had earned their codename by riding a bull rancor and using it to assassinate a small hoard of Imperials on Felucia maybe three or four years ago, though the stories varied. The Rider was often seen in the company of the Reaper, on those rare occasions they surfaced, and provided the support needed while the Reaper made his kill.

And when they surfaced, there was always a kill.

"Do we really want individuals with such high death counts in the rebellion?" Hera couldn’t help but ask as she recalled the cold, merciless actions of the gunslinger toward the end of the mission, so different from the wild and reckless actions she'd first seen before the death of his friend. There'd been something uncomfortable about the focus he'd wielded, and the quiet anger which fueled it. It was one thing coming from a regular person, but from someone so powerful? Hera was hesitant. "We're freedom fighters. Not a hoard of killers and assassins."

"I do not sense that these two kill because they enjoy it," Fulcrum countered calmly, as if she'd encountered this argument several times and knew exactly what she was going to say. "Their work indicates a great deal of care and planning. The civilian casualty rate is incredibly low, as is the collateral damage. When they kill, they kill precisely and for a reason, a reason which we have always indirectly benefited from. It might be the case that they are freedom fighters as much as any of us are. After all, how many have you killed in the fight for freedom?"

Hera wisely kept her mouth shut. It wasn't a number she was proud of, even if they'd all been necessary. But that didn't stop her from asking her next question.

"What if you're wrong?"

Fulcrum looked down into her drink as she seemed to drop into thought, staring for a long time as she contemplated the question. After a long moment, her blue eyes rose to give Hera a confident look.

"I have the sense that will not be the case. You may call it intuition, if you like."

That didn't sit well with Hera. "I respect your intuition, Fulcrum, but I need to know what happens if you’re wrong."

"In the event that they do not prove to have goals and values which may align with our own, you may disengage and we will leave them be. Just because they will not work with us does not mean they aren't helping our cause, if only passively and by convenience. We are simply extending an invitation which we believe will be mutually beneficial."

Hera nodded, still uncomfortable before she asked, "And if they choose to attack us instead?"

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Fulcrum glanced down at her drink again. "But if your mission does not succeed, do everything you can to lose them. And if you cannot ... then terminate them. They may be useful to the cause, but we can't afford to lose one of our best pilots, or your crew." She looked up, and Hera was surprised to see a strange, knowing smile there.

"What is it?"

"I simply believe such extreme measures will not need to be taken," the Togruta replied. "I believe you and your crew can convince them to fight for the rebellion. You are the correct choice."

"Well, we'll see about that," Hera said with a sigh. She'd known Fulcrum for a while now, and knew the Togruta had these hunches from time to time, hunches which were usually spot on. Sometimes it made the Twi'lek wonder. The gunslinger had been like that, prone to impossible flashes of insight which could only be explained by the Force. Sometimes ... Hera wondered.

But she never said anything. If Fulcrum was, then she was. If not, then it didn't matter.

It wasn't to say that Hera didn't pay particular care to the Togruta woman's hunches though. Even if they were eerily accurate and often uncomfortable.

"What sort of time frame are we looking at?" Hera asked after a moment, and Fulcrum frowned in response.

"There are many who want you to complete this mission as soon as possible. Within a couple of days of tracking them down," Fulcrum admitted, and Hera's stomach dropped. Days? She hadn't seen the man who might be the Reaper in five years, but she knew instinctively that a handful of days wouldn't be near enough time to complete the objective. She was about to voice her concerns when the Togruta held up a hand to stop her.

"I do not think that such a tight timetable is wise with these two. They've been working successfully and secretly for years now, and it does not appear they trust anyone other than each other. Getting them to trust you, and then trust the greater rebellion is going to take time. Perhaps a lot of it. I sense that if we want the Reaper and the Rider to become true allies, this mission will have to be a long-term operation. You will have as much time as you need to complete it. At least, until we cannot wait any longer."

Relief slipped through the Twi'lek as she leaned back in her seat, arm along the top of the booth as she thought. Good. That was good. She and the crew would need as much time as they could get. But how was she going to do it? How were they going to convince the Reaper and the Rider to join the rebellion? Carefully was the obvious answer, but it didn't answer the finer how. Before she could get too drawn into thoughts and planning, Fulcrum caught her attention as she leaned forward, something small concealed in her hand.

"This contains the details for the mission, and all the intel we’ve been able to collect concerning the vigilante pair." Discreetly Fulcrum slipped a datacard to Hera, and the Twi'lek just as discreetly swept it up and into a hidden pocket of her flight suit. "In it you will find not only what records we have been able to collect, but also a few images of them as well, though I will warn you they aren't of decent quality. But they might aid you in your search."

"Given how elusive these two are, any little bit helps," Hera admitted, trying to think back to Gorse and the man she'd met there. It was an old memory, one she frequented more than she really should, but Hera was confident that so long as nothing drastic had happened to him, she could pick him out of a lineup. Even if brown hair and blue eyes were fairly common features in the galaxy, that man was distinctive in a way which wasn't just skin deep.

Still, the galaxy was a big place. As she'd told Fulcrum, any little bit helped.

They finished their meal in companionable discussion, carefully drifting from the topic of the Reaper and Rider to more mundane things, to throw anyone listening in now off their trail. It wasn't long, however, until they'd paid for their meals and exited the establishment. Already Hera's mind was starting to drift, wondering what her first move would be once she had some time to sit down with Fulcrum's data. She contemplated a trip to Gorse, if the Imperial presence there wasn't too bad, but was once again drawn from her plans when Fulcrum caught her attention.

"Hera," Fulcrum said softly as they were about to part, and the Twi'lek stopped to look curiously at the other woman. "Just be careful. It's possible at least one of them is ... special. He might be able to do things you won't expect or can't explain by normal means."

Hera kept her features smooth as she let her eyes speak for her. She knew exactly what Fulcrum was trying to tell her, and all she could do was nod in response. The Togruta suspected one of the vigilante pair was a Force user, and that he might try to use the Force on her or her crew.

And she knew which of the two it was.

The Togruta nodded in response as she pulled her hood deep over her face and turned, and that was that. The meeting was over and Hera left without looking back. It wasn't safe to linger, and Sabine would be on her relentlessly if she missed her check-in.

After making the check-in, Hera took a long and winding path back to the hanger the  _Ghost_  was waiting in to ensure she wasn't being followed, and was pleased to see Chopper and AP-5 waiting for her by the ramp. Immediately the astromech informed Hera that both the  _Ghost_ and the  _Phantom_  were ready for flight whenever she was. AP-5 told her that they were stocked on all supplies she'd requested, though he'd had difficulty locating an adequate supply of transistors and would have to find more soon.

"Thanks guys," she said as she swept in, closing the ramp behind them as she headed to the cockpit, slipping into her seat with practiced ease which bespoke years of comfort and dedication to the chair and her profession. As she began flicking switches and pressing buttons, enticing her baby to wake up, she saw the other two members of her crew come in for news.

"So, what did Fulcrum say?" Sabine asked curiously from the copilot's seat as Hera manipulated the controls to take the  _Ghost_  out of the atmosphere and into space, already plotting a course into hyperspace. "What sort of mission are we on this time?"

"I hope it's a supply raid," Zeb voiced from where he leaned against the wall, watching as the  _Ghost_  lifted from the hanger, smooth as silk. "I'm starting to get antsy. I haven't smashed a couple of bucketheads in a while."

"It's only been two days," Sabine pointed out, and the Lasat shrugged as if that was the obvious answer.

"Right. Too long."

"It's not a supply raid," Hera said as they slipped from the atmosphere into the ease of space. "It's actually a recruitment mission. Fulcrum wants us to find and convince a pair of vigilantes to join, and we've been given an extended amount of time to do it. I think we're going to need it, if you ask me."

"Who are we recruiting?" the teenaged Mandalorian asked. "Smugglers? Bounty Hunters?"

"Either would be easier," Hera muttered with a sidelong look before she aligned the  _Ghost_  for the jump into hyperspace. "We're recruiting the Reaper and the Rider."

Just as they made the jump and the viewport swam with blue and white light, she turned just in time to catch both Sabine and Zeb as they stared at her open mouthed and flabbergast in shock.

Hera chuckled to herself. Well, at least she wasn't the only one.


	2. Contact

"I've got news!" Hera said with an excited smile, and the rest of her crew looked up sharply with bright eyes. Zeb responded first.

"Finally! We've been looking for these fools for the last month. It's about time we've found something."

"What did you find?" Sabine asked, already standing and clearly ready to chase down any leads concerning their elusive vigilantes, and Hera's smile weakened a little. Perhaps she should have been a _little_ more specific.

"Sorry, the news isn't about them."

Immediately the energy which had filled the room dropped out and Sabine let herself fall back into her seat, a small pinch about her eyes. Beside her Chopper gurgled with agitation before rolling out of the room. AP-5 once again resumed his now fulltime task of checking the HoloNet and any Imperial networks Sabine had managed to slice into with a resigned mechanical sigh. Zeb huffed and let his head fall back as his body went limp.

Hera sympathized, but now wasn't the time.

"Should have known," the Lasat grumbled. "What's the news about, then? Has Tarkin been eaten by a sarlacc?" He lifted his head enough to lock his green eyes on Hera's hopefully. "Are we being given a mission to throw Tarkin into a sarlacc?"

"As relieving as that might be, no. That's not the news I have." Hera put a hand on her hip as she addressed her crew. "It's good though. Fulcrum managed to secure information on the Wookiees. The Imperials are taking them to Kessel."

"Spice mines," Sabine said as she sat up straight, alert and sharp again. "Hera, they won't last long there."

"I know, which is why, since our mission with R2 hasn't been as fruitful as we'd hoped, Fulcrum has given us this mission in the meantime. We're going to Kessel to free those Wookiees."

Zeb slowly grinned as he also sat up, pleased with the turn of events. "Now, that's what I'm talking about. It'll be good to stretch my legs and take out my frustrations on the Empire."

"Tell me about it," Sabine agreed. "The milk runs take the edge off, but I'm ready for some straightforward combat."

Hera smiled. "Then get ready. I've already set us on a course for Kessel and we should be there in a few hours. Sabine, here's the data Fulcrum sent me. Look it over and let me know when you're ready to discuss a plan."

"You got it," Sabine said, spirits lifted now that she had a challenging problem to work on, one which required her specific talents as the crew's tactical specialist. Zeb was already checking his bo-rifle to ensure its reliability and efficiency in preparation for the likely fight to come. Hera drifted over to AP-5.

"Anything today?"

"No," the protocol droid droned in a tone almost sarcastic, which didn't surprise Hera in the least. "Though given the two point eight percent chance something relevant would show up at all, I'm not surprised it hasn't."

"I can't say I am either," Hera muttered before she placed her hand on the droid's metal shoulder. "Keep at it AP. They've got to surface sometime."

AP-5 didn't say anything in response, though she suspected he wanted to. She'd been telling him the same thing every day now for weeks, and every time her words seemed hollower than the day before.

She had to admit, in accepted this mission she'd known searching for the Reaper and the Rider — R2 as the crew had taken to calling them for simplicity's sake — would be difficult. After all, these guys had been running missions for years and the Empire still hadn't caught or stopped them. But the fact that the crew hadn't been able to find a single lead after a solid, devoted month of sleuthing discouraged her more than she was willing to admit.

They'd tried everything they could think of. After accessing and looking over everything Fulcrum and the rebellion had been able to pull together concerning the two infamous legends, they'd all realized they were fighting an uphill battle. There was decidedly little information on the pair, past the number of suspected missions, the methods by which the mission targets were either assassinated or destroyed, a tentative time line, and locations to place the missions. Profilers theorized complex drives and personality dispositions, but the theories were all vague, conflicting, and unhelpful.

Most of the information collected pertained to the Reaper, given his longer work history — solo work before he’d teamed up with the Rider — and deadly trademark. The Rider? Even the rebellion hadn't been able to turn up much more than her crew had on their own. Speculation raged, but there was no consensus. All anyone had to go on concerning the Rider was that he or she aided the Reaper, and more than a few times had been seen mounted or aided by some deadly creature.

If there was anything of worth in the data Fulcrum had provided, it was in the images. And Fulcrum had been right. The pictures weren't good. They were colorless and fuzzy, vague and difficult to see, but they were the first images her or her crew had seen of R2 as they were infamously known. Most of them were blurred action shots, but one was far more distinguished than the others. There was no denying the imposing central figure clad and masked in black, back turned to the camera, his body twisted and imposing after having successfully accomplished an assassination. Whatever weapon he'd been using disappeared in the fuzzy frames and dark shot, but the decapitation which had occurred was clear. Just to the side, at the edge of the image, was a cloaked figure assumed to be the Rider, the tail of some huge unidentifiable beast edging the shot.

It was a chilling image and Hera hadn't missed the wary hesitation which had flashed across Sabine's eyes, or Zeb's hard look. These individuals were clearly lethal. Deadly. And they were recruiting them? Her crew hadn't said it out loud, but she knew they were thinking it. Did the rebellion really want to pull these two in? Did Hera?

It wasn't a question Hera was letting herself think about at the moment.

The first thing Hera had done was drag her crew to Gorse, the last and only place she'd seen the man she suspected was the Reaper. She knew it was going to be a hard trail to pick up, given it was five years old and just as cold, but she was disappointed to find absolutely nothing. She hadn't expected to find anyone around who remembered Moonglow, or the mess of five years ago with Count Vidian. Hera hadn't expected much from that.

But she'd been more than a little disappointed when the data they'd sliced and stolen from Transcept Media Solutions, a hub for Imperial surveillance, concerning the events of five years ago also turned up nothing. What surveillance there had been of the time had been either deleted or removed. There was nothing. After that, they'd tapped all of their contacts and acquaintances who might have been able to provide some sort of direction or lead, but once again, nothing. There was nothing at all.

When they weren't actively looking for leads concerning the pair, they completed small missions which helped provide the funds needed to feed them, supply them, or put fuel in the  _Ghost_. Although those missions often went by easily and were always successful, when tempered by the failing and cold start they had on their official mission, the entire crew was starting to become agitated and discouraged. She didn't know what to do or where to search.

It seemed they were chasing ghosts instead of real people. If Hera hadn't seen the man who might be the Reaper with her own eyes, she might have started to believe like Zeb that they  _were_  chasing ghosts.

So they contented themselves with the good work they were able to do, by helping those the Empire had wronged, righting injustices where they could. Given the mission and intel Fulcrum had been able to provide Hera concerning the Wookiees, she knew this would be a mission which would buoy her crew's flagging spirits.

But as always, she wondered about what might happen after. What would they do then?

Hera ignored the question. It was one for later. They had a mission to focus on right now, and it appeared that Sabine was ready to discuss it. The Mandalorian had summoned Chopper from wherever he'd been sulking and had a holoprojection of a Kessel airfield arranged atop the Dejarik table.

"It'll be hard, but I think we can manage," Sabine said as she looked up at Hera. "Security will be tight."

"No kidding," rumbled Zeb as his eyes scanned the projection. "Imperials will be crawling all over the place."

Hera looked at the teenaged girl, confident that Sabine had managed to pull something together. "What have you got, Sabine?"

"We're all needed for this mission. We might be able to spare AP-5 and Chopper for cover fire and aerial support, but the rest of us need to be on the ground to free and rescue the Wookiees in the meantime. Like I said, it's not going to be easy."

"It's a twenty-three percent success rate," AP-5 muttered blandly from across the way without looking up from his monitor, and Zeb narrowed his eyes.

"No one asked you."

Chopper warbled something crude to the Lasat for being rude to his helpful friend, and Hera picked up quickly before the arguments could erupt like they often did.

"Well, they're not the best odds, I'll admit. But it's still a chance, and those Wookiees need our help." She saw no hesitation in the eyes of her crew, and gentle pride swelled in her chest. They may be small for a cell, but there was no one closer, and no one she trusted more than this little band she called friends and family. Her crew.

"It'll be a relief, at least. I've been itching for a fight."

"When aren't you?" Sabine said, and Zeb’s gruff smile was shameless.

"Only when it comes to the Imperials."

Sabine walked them through the various plans she'd developed, and with Hera's approval the mission was set. All that was left was to get to Kessel and wait for the Imperial transport to arrive with the Wookiee cargo. She left the rest of her team to prepare and made for the cockpit, but found Sabine in tow. The Twi'lek flicked her eyes to the Mandalorian. She was casting some pointed glances Hera knew from experience was Sabine's subtle way of broaching a subject.

"What is it, Sabine?"

"The Reaper and Rider ... Hera what are we going to do about them? We have no leads. We have nothing." Sabine settled into the copilot's seat.

"That mission's on hold for the time being," Hera replied with a sigh. "Don't worry, Sabine. We'll find them, one way or another. Maybe we'll get lucky today."

Sabine scoffed. "What? You think they'll be with the Wookiees?"

Hera shrugged and gave her young genius a grin. "They've been known to liberate Imperial slaves and fugitives before. Who knows?" R2 had. Those sorts of missions were very rare for them, but they did happen on occasion.

Hera didn't really think they'd get that lucky though, and it was clear from Sabine's look that she didn't think they'd get that lucky either.

That didn't mean Hera didn't hope it would be the case.

* * *

 

Although Imperial blaster bolts were flying over their heads in bright lines of deadly fury, the mission was going well at the moment, all things considered. The drop off had been clean, and thus far they'd managed to gather the Wookiees behind the cover of crates for protection without any injury. Zeb and Sabine worked together to take out the stormtroopers currently in the area, leaving Hera free to unlock the Wookiees’ shackles.

She hoped their luck would last, but she knew better than to put a lot of stock in it. They were handling it decently now, but all it would take to ruin their odds were more Imperial reinforcements. They needed to move fast if they wanted to save the Wookiees and escape without too much injury, and the longer they lingered, the less the odds remained in their favor.

"Shade-2, Shade-5! Hurry it up," Hera yelled into her comm, and Chopper's hurried warbling made her frown. AP-5 added that until the blaster fire could be contained or diminished, they could do little more than what they were doing now. As it was, the droids were hovering in the  _Ghost_ , providing cover fire when they could as they waited for the ground team to create an opening.

Hera forced herself to breathe through her nose as a blaster bolt flew uncomfortably close to one of her lek, and she worked on the shackles in her hands more quickly.

Part of her wanted to be up there in the  _Ghost_. In her hands her ship would already be on the ground. AP-5 and Chopper simply weren't as deft at manipulating the  _Ghost_  as she was, and with all the blaster fire flying around, it was more than hazardous for them to attempt the pickup. But for the success of this mission, Hera had to be on the ground or they wouldn't have managed to save all of the Wookiees like they had thus far.

All that could be done was to take down enough of the Imperials so the  _Ghost_  could make its landing. Until then, they'd work on making that hole. It helped that the Wookiees she had managed to unshackle were already up in arms and doing what they could, but Hera hoped it would be enough.

The comm buzzed on Hera's glove and Hera took a deep breath as she hoped for the best and planned for the worst.

"Shade-1," Sabine said over the comm just as Hera began working on the shackles of the last Wookiee. "We've got company."

 _Damn it_ , Hera cursed in her mind as she suppressed the urge to shout.

"More Imperials?"

"Yes, but I don't think that's all," the young Mandalorian said, her voice going a strange, strangled way Hera had never heard before, and Hera looked up in concern. More than just Imperials? Walkers? TIEs?

"What is it, Shade-4?"

Hera could see Sabine's eccentric armor from where she was kneeling behind boxes to provide cover fire, but her helmet was turned to a spot in the distance, a spot Hera couldn't see. Worry grew in Hera when Sabine didn't immediately respond like she usually did.

"Shade-4?"

"You're not going to believe it ... but ... I think it's the Rider." Hera stilled as the shackles she'd been working on fell off and the Wookiee roared with liberation. "Yes, Shade-1, it's the Rider! The Rider's here too."

Hera's breath caught and she swept her green eyes around in an attempt to find the Rider for herself, but saw nothing except the chaos of battle. She still searched with razor focus because though the Rider was important, she was more interested in the other. The partner. If the Rider was here, that meant the Reaper was here.

He had to be here.

For a moment the reality of the situation slammed into her. She and the crew were here trying to rescue a host of Wookiees while being shot at by more Imperials than she liked, and on top of that  _they_ were here too, against all odds. For a moment she was torn. What was she supposed to focus on more? The battle and the safety of the Wookiees, or the ghost-like vigilante team?

The answer was obvious. The Wookiees and their safety was paramount, but there was no denying the fact that this was likely going to be the only break they'd get with these two. The only one they'd had in a month of dedicated search, and if she didn't take the opportunity now, then when would their next be?

It was a very real possibility that there wouldn't be a second opportunity. This might be the only time she or the crew might be able to make contact. Somehow she needed to do both.

She just didn't think the Imperials were going to give her the chance. It was going to come down to a decision if their situation didn’t change.

Hera's thoughts came to a sudden and abrupt stop when a dark figure appeared as if out of thin air in the middle of the fight, and for a moment everything stopped. No one fired a bolt. None of the Wookiees yelled or made a sound. Hera was sure her heart had forgotten how to beat in her chest.

A man stood amidst the chaos, dressed in black with an equally dark avian mask covering the entirety of his face. A dusky scythe with a wicked sharp, curved blade at the end was held almost lazily in his hand. Nothing could be distinguished past that, but in Hera's mind there was no doubt.

This was the Reaper.

"Shade-1," whispered Zeb quickly into the comm. "Hera, what do we do?"

"Wait," she breathed as her eyes traced the Reaper's form, waiting to see what might happen next. "Just wait."

Hera froze when her comm activated again and a foreign voice she hadn't heard in years slipped out, cool and collected and lacking the rough and tumble manner she'd once known.

"Hurry and get those Wookiees to safety," the smooth, masculine voice said calmly through the comm on her glove, and Hera stared at it in disbelief as if it had grown eyes. "We'll provide cover. Now go."

"Who is this? And how did you slice into our comms?" demanded Sabine, but all she got in response was silence before the Reaper adjusted his grip on his black scythe and the comm clicked quiet.

A heartbeat later he was moving, wielding his scythe with sure grace as he all but flew at the Imperials. Blaster fire filled the air again, but it was now focused on the black figure who wove himself through space and through the air like a matter-less wraith, scythe spinning in elegant and deadly arches. Untouchable and lethal.

It might as well have been five years ago on Gorse for Hera, if he hadn't been dressed as the Reaper, but the rough gunslinger she remembered. And if he hadn't had a scythe, but small blades and a blaster. The Twi'lek watched transfixed, unable to think.

It was him. It had to be.

"Hera?" Zeb demanded, breaking her from her mind and the world suddenly caught up with her.

"Do what the Reaper said. AP! Get the  _Ghost_  down here, now. We need a pick up while the Imperials are busy."

Something screamed in the direction of the Imperials and Hera scanned the chaos. A great white furred creature with four eyes, huge claws, a mouth full of sharp teeth and a long split tail rampaged through a squad of incoming Imperials. Hera's jaw dropped as she saw the cloaked form of the Rider atop the beast, firing a strangely shaped blaster at the Imperials before leaping off for a better vantage point.

The Rider's beast ... it was a nexu. Not quite adult or full-sized, but dangerous none-the-less.

"Karabast!" Zeb exclaimed and Hera watched the Lasat stand and stumble back just as Sabine rose defensively, her WESTAR-35's raised. "You're kidding me!"

"Stop staring at them! Get everyone to safety," Hera ordered, even as she felt like a hypocrite keeping one eye on the vigilante pair devastating the Imperials while the other struggled to watch the  _Ghost_  land, the ramp lowered and ready for everyone to board.

"Shade-1, we're not going to get another chance like this," Sabine said quickly over the comm, her visored gaze flicking to the Twi'lek's as Zeb got the Wookiees onboard. Hera nodded.

"You try for the Rider. I'll take the Reaper. Shade-3, get clear in the meantime, but be ready."

Zeb muttered and affirmative as Sabine bounded across the battlefield, taking cover where it was provided as she neared the Rider and the deadly nexu. Hera trusted Sabine to handle it. Instead she focused on the Reaper and alarm ran down her spine when she saw the masked man was running, giving deadly chase. The Imperials he'd engaged lay prone with eerie and telling stillness and he sped after a squad of stormtroopers who followed after a screaming Wookiee child.

Focusing, she drew her blaster and followed swiftly after while the coast was clear.

Hera pursued the black clad figure at a run and watched from behind as he raised his scythe again. As he did the long metal blade glinted in the light before it dragged across the air and tore through what Imperials he was able to reach. The stormtroopers collapsed, lifeless, but the Reaper didn't slow, and Hera couldn't afford to either.

As she passed them she saw that the Reaper's decapitations were precise as always, though it amazed her that there was no blood. The wounds had been cauterized somehow. It was another mystery of the Reaper, his targets all retained that cauterized trademark. But how did he do it, if he used that scythe? Metal shouldn't be able to do that, not unless it was flaming hot. But the metal didn't glow.

How did he do it?

With unnatural speed and dexterity, the Reaper leaped high and far and came to a graceful landing at the other end of a long catwalk leading out into the open air of a deep, jagged fissure. The young Wookiee had been chased there by an Imperial Hera hadn't been able to see. The Wookiee screamed and cowered, but it did so from behind the form of the Reaper, who now faced not only the Imperial, but her as well.

The Reaper held his scythe at the ready, his figure calm and relaxed, but protective as his stance left no doubt that he'd kill the Imperial if he tried to come anywhere near the child. The rapid transition from lethal executioner to protector was breathtaking.

It was just like on the  _Forager_ , above Gorse.

With the Imperial's attention held so solidly on the Reaper, the stormtrooper had left his back completely exposed and Hera saw her opening. With a few well-placed shots, the Trooper plummeted over the railing, limp and lifeless, but no longer a threat. Hera lowered her blaster and looked at the Reaper who'd lowed his scythe as well.

Hera didn't know what to do, but she found she wouldn't have been able to do anything even if she could have. Her body felt frozen. She couldn't see much given the mask and the distance, but it still felt as if the weight of his gaze clung heavy to her, pinning her right where she was. How could he do that? Was it the Force? Or was it something else?

Slowly she found control of her body again and moved forward just as Sabine's voice broke with urgency into the comm.

"Hera, the Rider is gone! I don't know where he went, he's just gone!"

"You should leave soon, Captain Syndulla. More Imperials are on the way."

Hera's breath lodged in her chest as she heard the familiar sound of his voice again as it broke into their comms just moments before she registered thrusters somewhere in the great crevice below. With a start Hera ran after the Reaper even as he stepped around the Wookiee child, making no effort to hide his intentions.

He was going to jump off the end of the catwalk. And if Hera had to guess, the Rider was waiting for him somewhere below. He was leaving.

No!

Hera's lungs heaved and her heart raced in her chest with each quick step, but she knew it wasn't going to be enough. She had to slow him down. She had to stop him from leaving, somehow!

Hera's voice raced through the air like urgent thunder.

"Kanan, wait!"

Hope bloomed in Hera as the Reaper slowed, then paused at the end of the catwalk. He turned to look over his shoulder, and even with that black, avian mask concealing the entirety of his face, it felt to Hera as if she could feel his blue gaze on her, hard and imposing.

But real and knowing all the same.

"Don't go, Kanan, please! I need to talk to you—!"

Before she could finish, before she could catch up, she gasped in utter horror as he suddenly threw his scythe up toward the sky in quick, circular arcs before he backflipped into open air and dropped from view. Time seemed to stop for her. For one stunned moment, all she could think was he'd decided to kill himself rather than face her. After all of this, he'd jumped to death rather than talk to her.

But the sound of thrusters roared and the air ripped around her, forcing her to close her eyes. By the time she could open them again, the air had stilled and she ran as fast as she could to the end of the catwalk. But when she got to the edge, the air was empty, nothing below, and the Reaper was gone as if he'd never been there at all. The world was still and empty, filled with the reality of what had happened.

She'd lost the Reaper. Kanan was gone.

Hera took a deep, calming breath instead of giving voice to the string of curses which waited on her tongue, and when she felt more the steady and professional captain she was she turned to the Wookiee child. This was her mission right now. She needed to focus on this. From the other side of the catwalk she saw Sabine running toward her.

"Zeb, we need a pick up."

"On it."

A moment later the familiar scream of the  _Ghost's_  thrusters filled the air and the three of them boarded and left Kessel before the day could get any worse.

* * *

 

The  _Ghost_  crew watched as the Wookiee transport jumped into hyperspace. Hera let her eyes linger there before she looked at the rest of her merry — ha, after the day they'd had, that was a laugh — band.

"Well," Hera said as she finally collapsed into the pilot's seat. "That mission could have gone better."

Now that they'd gotten the Wookiees to safety and it was just her and the crew, she let a little of her guard down and pressed her fingers into her brow.

"It didn't go that bad. We got the Wookiees out of there at least," Zeb replied with a shrug.

"And no one got injured," Sabine added, and Hera sighed as she looked at them both.

"You know what I mean."

"At least we managed to gain more intel on R2 than we had. That's something, isn't it?" Zeb gave Hera a grin. "Better than when we started this morning."

Hera gave him that one. "Well, you're not wrong. At least knowing the Rider moves with a nexu is a valuable bit of information. It has to be hard hiding that beast. We can start asking our contacts if they've seen anyone traveling with a nexu."

"We could," Sabine agreed before she said, "but I'd hold off for the time being."

Hera watched Sabine curiously, lifting an eyebrow as she took in the Mandalorian's proud smirk. Why did she look like that? Like she'd just blown up Emperor Palatine's personal cruiser?

"Sabine?"

Sabine grinned as she lifted her chin, her body language triumphant. "I managed to put a tracker on the Rider while he wasn't looking. I also managed to tell him about our offer as well, but I'm not so sure he was listening. He didn't exactly give any indication, but at the very least we have a shot at tracking them to try again." She handed the tracker to Hera, and excitement flooded the Twi'lek.

"Well done, Sabine!" Hera praised as she eyed the small screen, watching as coordinates indicating position in the galaxy began to radically change in a way which suggested hyperspace travel. She handed it back to the Mandalorian to keep an eye on. "This is perfect."

Hera was practically itching to go after them now. This was the first big break they'd had. Hell, it was the first big break she suspected anyone had ever had on those two, given how good they were at covering their tracks.

But leave it to Sabine to manage the impossible.

"How did you find out the Rider's a 'he'?" Zeb asked.

"He was moving around a lot dealing with those Imperials and I took some time to watch him. His cloak flew back a few times and his silhouette looked male."

"That's a bit weak, don't you think?" Zeb critiqued, and Sabine shrugged.

"What I'm not sure about is how they patched into our comms," Sabine said before she looked to Hera. "I checked our frequencies and encrypted them. It shouldn't have happened."

"I get the feeling these two are going to surprise us no matter what we do," Hera breathed.

"I'd say. The Reaper even knew your name."

Hera decided she'd keep quiet on that one. She hadn't outright told the crew yet that there was a possibility she'd already met the Reaper personally, and that the trip to Gorse hadn't been the rebellion's lead, but her own.

"I'm not sure I'm even concerned about that. I'm just glad they helped out," Hera finally said.

"If it wasn't for the rustbucket's lousy aim, we'd have had it under control," Zeb said and Chopper chittered indignantly, swinging a tiny metal arm to whack the Lasat on the leg. Zeb bared his teeth at the astromech in retaliation, but Chopper made it clear he dared the Lasat to do anything about it.

"So, where are they?" questioned Zeb as he leaned against the back of a seat once Chopper had backed off to warble in complaint to AP-5, who sighed but listened anyway.

"It's too early to say,” Sabine relied. “I don't think they've found my tracker yet, and their jump movements have been random and erratic as if to lose a tail. But I'm sure AP and I will be able to come up with something once they slow down. Until then, we're just going to have to wait and see."

"Then that's what we'll do. If we're lucky, they won't notice Sabine's tracker.” Hera handed the tracking monitor back to the Mandalorian. “If not, at least we've got something of a trail to follow now."

Hera gazed out the viewport and into the darkness of space, and though it was a long shot, and though it was likely the skilled R2 would likely find the tracker, it was still a step closer. And knowing that made something rise in Hera. Something expectant and bold.

He was out there. Kanan was out there, and he was the Reaper. She just knew it.

And she would find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to thank everyone who’s reviewed, I’ve really appreciated the kind words and your interest in the story! They've really given me motivation.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Closing In

"Well, here we are," Hera said as she landed the  _Ghost_ on open ground near the impressive stone castle nearby. "Takodana."

"So this is Takodana," Sabine said with interest as she glanced across the forest which surrounded them. In the distance the stone castle with its multitude of flags flying stood proudly, like an ancient beacon. A free harbor among the trees, as it was in space. "I've always heard of this place. When Ketsu and I were bounty hunting together, we almost came here a few times. Never got the chance though. This is where the pirate queen lives, isn't it?"

"Maz Kanata?" Hera nodded. "This is her place."

"I guess it's not that surprising R2 might come here," Sabine muttered. "What gets me is how long they've been here. I'm positive they've found the tracker." After following a chaotic trail of coordinates across the galaxy, they'd tracked the Reaper and Rider here to Takodana. But this was where their pattern had abruptly changed. At first they'd moved indiscriminately across space. But then they'd arrived here and had been here for the last day. Either this was their base of operations, or they'd found the tracker.

Hera wanted the former, but expected the later.

If the tracker had been found, Hera had to admit this was probably the best place to lose them, given how popular Takodana was. As a smuggler's pit-stop, and Maz's place, Hera wasn't entirely sure how successful they'd be if they brought up R2 in any manner. They were dangerous legends to be talking about and were sure to raise eyes. Enterprising and Imperial alike.

But they had to check.

"Come on," Hera told Sabine, and they both left the cockpit. On the way out past the other three members of her crew, she tapped Chopper. "Chop, you're coming too. AP, monitor all transmissions just in case you hear anything. Zeb, keep an eye on the  _Ghost_."

Zeb stretched. "I thought the pirate queen had a 'no violence' rule. Should be fine to leave the tinman alone. I've been dying to stretch my legs."

"Then stretch them outside on a patrol," Sabine offered. Zeb grunted in response.

"I'd rather not take my chances, just in case. No one may cause trouble, but that won't stop them from being curious," Hera said smoothly. Zeb grunted again, this time in agreement. Hera smiled at the Lasat as they left. She, Sabine, and Chopper could handle this one, but it made her feel better that Zeb was in the wings, waiting should she need him.

It probably wouldn't come to that. Zeb was right. This was Maz Kanata's place. If anyone picked a fight here, the old pirate would destroy them.

But still. Safe than sorry any day of the week.

"The tracker's definitely in there," Sabine said as she peered at the small monitor on her forearm for reference. "From what I can tell, it hasn't moved in the last hour."

"Maybe they’re having a drink," Hera replied with a smile she hoped didn't convey any of her doubt.

Maz's cantina was filled with noise, bodies, and the smell of smugglers. It amused a small part of Hera that she found it an oddly relaxing smell, in its way. Familiar, at least. How many cantina's and seedy dives had she been forced to visit in order to get her work done? Too many, but she didn’t feel out of place at the moment, which was good.

They walked in with their backs straight and eyes aware, the image of confident and capable. Anything less would paint targets on their backs, even with Maz's no violence rule. Not that it was much of an act anyway. If anyone was foolish enough to try to mess with them, they'd find out quickly what a bad idea it had been.

"What have you got, Sabine?" Hera asked casually as they drifted to the side, her eyes subtly scanning the huge collection of humans and aliens which surrounded them, eating, drinking, shouting, conducting all forms of illicit business transactions.

"Give me a second," the Mandalorian said quietly, and Chopper warbled to the both of them that lingering where they were was starting to draw attention. Hera already knew. She could feel eyes tracing her body, appraising her worth as a potential slave, like Twi'lek women often were off Ryloth. Sabine straightened after a moment before her eyes swept the cantina with intent.

Hera's gaze followed and stopped when Sabine indicated a portly male Zabrak across the way.

"There," Sabine glanced back at her monitor to verify. "He's got the tracker." The Zabrak lounged at a table, reading a datapad and doing a damn good job of ignoring the rest of the bar around him. On the table, in plain sight, was Sabine's tracker.

"Somehow I think R2 found it," Hera said. The Zabrak certainly wasn’t Kanan, and somehow she doubted he was the Rider either. "Let's go talk to him."

Now that they were moving with more directed actions, those interested gazes began to slide away, bored. Hera caught a glint of a magnified eye near the bar, but when she checked, Maz's back was turned to bark an order to the bartender before she took care of a patron at the bar.

The Zabrak smuggler didn't even look up as they drew near, either putting up a front or truly engrossed in his datapad, it was hard to tell, but Hera got his attention just fine.

"I believe you have something of ours."

Now the Zabrak looked at them, his eyes narrowed critically. "You're not Black Sun," he said.

"Why? You expecting them?" Sabine asked, crossing her arms with a tight frown on her face. He studied her with guarded eyes, clearly weighing his words.

"I hoped not, but when I found this tracker on me I thought it was best to assume the worst." He leaned back and regarded them with cool eyes. "Who are you? Why'd you put a tracker on me?"

"Unfortunately, I think the ones we were tracking were the ones who put the tracker on you," Hera said just as coolly, a hand on her hip as she maintained a smooth-faced disposition. No weakness. She wouldn't let him see her disappointment.

He wouldn't have noticed anyway, given the way his face tightened into a harsh scowl. "Kriffing beast smugglers! It was them, it had to be."

"Beast smugglers?" Sabine prompted. "How many are we talking?"

"Two that I saw."

Hera forced her excitement down to maintain her focus. It was no good tipping her hand.

"What sort of beasts? Do you know?"

"No," the Zabrak said with an annoyed growl as he stood. "Big game, I think. Sounded like big game when I passed by their ship. Only ones who came near me at the space port. I'm sure it was them!" The Zabrak eyed Hera and Sabine. "What are you doing tracking beast smugglers?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Hera said smoothly. "Do you happen to know where they went?"

"Why should I tell you?" he muttered suspiciously as he stood over both of them, clearly intent on leaving now that he'd figured out who the tracker belonged to. Sabine smiled, her eyes alight and deadly.

"Because we asked nicely."

The Zabrak eyed them for a long moment before he shrugged.

"Nar Shaddaa," he replied easily enough and Hera blinked in surprise. The Smuggler's Moon? "Looked like they'd just touched down when I was leaving. That's all I got. Now, if you ladies will excuse me."

The Zabrak smuggler stepped around them, and eased from the cantina and out the door. Hera lifted an eyebrow at Sabine, and Sabine shrugged.

"One of the coordinates they stopped at was Nar Shaddaa. It might be them."

"It sounds a lot like it could be them," agreed Hera as she sat at the table the Zabrak had just vacated, and she frowned. The seat was cold. The Zabrak had been sitting here for a while, but why was the seat cold?

"Do you think he was lying?"

Sabine remained standing, her eyes narrowed with a telling look of suspicion. Hera considered the Mandalorian seriously. "I don't know. But did that seem a little easy to you?"

"That's what I thought," Sabine said, turning. "I'll be back. I'm going to tail that smuggler, just in case."

Hera nodded and watched as Sabine slipped out of the bar. She eyed the tracker in her hand and turned it off. Kanan had found it and was trying to lead her away.

A sigh slipped from her chest and she frowned at the small gadget.

"I guess we should check Nar Shaddaa, just in case," Hera muttered as she gave the tracker to Chopper before she leaned forward over the table. Nar Shaddaa? That place would be a nightmare of infrastructure and backstabbers. It seemed ... wrong. Hera couldn't believe it, and even if it was true, where would she begin to search? It was so populated and claustrophobic.

Too populated. Too claustrophobic. Really it didn't make any sense that Kanan would head to the Smuggler's Moon where anyone might see him or his partner's nexu. It might be the case that they kept the nexu somewhere else, but something about Nar Shaddaa just didn't seem right.

And the way that smugger had given her the information ... it was too easy. The tracker had been there on the table waiting, like a beacon, and they hadn't had to work hard at all to get the information they'd wanted. And there was something about that Zabrak that wasn't right, and her instincts were rarely ever wrong.

But even if something was wrong, what other leads did she have now?

Hera blinked when the sound of a glass being set before her drew her attention, and she watched as a small old woman with magnified eyes pushed a drink toward her before she took a seat at the table as well. Hera stared.

Maz Kanata. The pirate queen herself.

"On the house," the old pirate said in an aged voice. "You looked like you were in desperate need."

"Thank you," Hera said, too surprised to say anything else before she drew the glass closer. Under different circumstances she wouldn't even consider drinking the gift, but this was Maz's house, and Maz's rules, and the drink had come from Maz herself. If there was anyone here in this place she'd trust a free drink from, it was the old pirate who ruled with an iron fist over her home.

Besides, Chopper was right next to her and Sabine was close by. She took a sip of the drink and was thankful for it.

"What troubles you?" Maz asked. "I've seen you here before a few times, and you've never looked so agitated. In need of work?"

Hera couldn't stop the chuckle that huffed out of her chest. "Oh, I've got plenty of that. It's the work that's making me so agitated."

"I see. You didn't find who you were looking for?"

Years of control stopped Hera from staring dumbfounded at the old pirate as she slowly put down her glass.

"I'm sorry?"

"You have the eyes of a person looking for someone." Maz smiled as she gazed out into her bar with all of its dirty, dingy smugglers. "I'll be frank with you, my dear. I don't think you're going to find the person you're looking for here."

The Twi'lek relaxed as she looked away from the old woman. "It was a long shot," Hera agreed. "But it wasn't a wasted trip."

"Which is why you're still so agitated," Maz mused, and in response Hera kept quiet and sipped her drink again. "Tell me, who are you searching for?"

"Ghosts," Hera muttered into her drink, unwilling to admit to the old pirate, to anyone, who her targets were. "Seems that way, anyway."

Maz didn't say anything as her magnified eyes continued to linger upon Hera in a way which felt weighted. In her travels, Hera had heard stories of the old pirate queen, stories that claimed her eyes could see the truth of a person's soul.

If it was true, Hera wondered what the old woman's eyes saw in hers.

She wondered what Maz might see in Kanan's.

"You've met Kanan, haven't you?" Maz said, more as a statement than a question, and surprise raced through Hera's blood at the sound of Kanan's name. It was almost as if the old pirate had plucked it right out of her mind. "Where was it?"

Hera stared at the old pirate and considered lying, mostly out of reflex. The rebel operative in her couldn't help but wonder if the pirate queen of Takodana was up to something. She'd said Kanan all on her own, as if she'd already known who Hera was searching for. But the old woman continued to regard Hera with a no-nonsense kind of wisdom, and though Hera was innately suspicious after a lifetime fighting the Empire, she couldn't help but tell this woman the truth.

"Five years ago. On Gorse."

"On Gorse," Maz repeated, but where there had been an unreadable look on her old eyes, now something sparked. "Did you happen to meet this Kanan while a certain Count was in the area?"

Hera nodded slowly, her heart beginning to race. "Yes. I did."

"I see." Maz's magnified eyes continued to regard Hera. When she finally turned her gaze away to take a sip of her drink, Hera felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The old pirate queen's gaze was intense.

But there was something in her old eyes that seemed almost satisfied, and Hera decided to try her luck.

"Do you know where Kanan Jarrus is?"

The old pirate leaned back on a hand, her glass cradled against her chest as she looked at Hera again, her old eyes filled with wisdom, age, and knowing.

Then she gave the smallest of smiles.

* * *

 

Maz Kanata watched the Twi'lek and her droid walk out of her cantina and considered what she'd set in motion.

The old pirate had noticed both Hera and her Mandalorian friend walk in the moment they did. Over the years, she'd seen the green-skinned Twi'lek on occasion, but they'd never exchanged words. Over her long life, and as queen of this castle, she'd seen many people, and often the reasons why they came to her home were written in their body language.

She'd known at a glance that those women were looking for someone, but that hadn't been what had made her look twice. Plenty of people came here looking for someone, or looking for something. It wasn't anything to get up in arms about. What  _had_  caught her attention was who they'd approached.

A Zabrak smuggler by the look of him, but Maz knew better.

Foolish boy. Did Kanan really think that after eleven years, she wouldn't know his holodroid on sight, even when it was concealed in an otherwise flawless holoprojection? Maz had wondered just why Proxy had been sitting there for so long, disguised as a patron. But now she understood. Those boys had been tracked. And that Twi'lek and Mandalorian were trying to find them.

With subtlety honed over a millennium, Maz paid close attention to their discussion without letting it seem as if she was paying any attention at all. The Twi'lek had been the one to approach the holodroid, and though neither Kanan nor Ezra's names were mentioned, it was obvious to the old pirate. They'd snagged Maz's attention solidly then, and she waited patiently to see how the cards fell.

The holodroid had laid out the false trial decently, Maz had to admit, before he'd left without a word and without looking back. These women were good though, or at least the right amount of suspicious. Maz had been impressed when the Mandalorian girl left to follow Proxy, though Maz knew she'd never find the holodroid now. Instead she'd watched as the Twi'lek sat and attempted to conceal her disappointment.

The Force had flared and it had rolled, and Maz felt something shift, something small but filled with potential.

And Maz was one who rarely allowed potential to slip by.

The free drink had been more of a ploy so she could get a good look at Hera, see the Twi’lek’s green eyes up close, and to allow the Force to whisper and tell her in its mysterious ways what it knew. What this shift meant, this potential, and who it was meant for.

What she sensed pleased her. And she couldn't help but prod that shift.

Oh, Kanan would be quite angry with her, but she had faith that one day he'd see she was only looking out for his and Ezra’s best interests. The path Kanan was on was a dark one. The Force in its wisdom insisted that if something wasn't done soon, that boy was going to fall, and he would not recover.

But when Maz looked at this Twi'lek, the Force hummed, and Maz had been alive long enough to understand many of its subtle implications. Ezra had been good for Kanan. But this woman ... she might show Kanan the way in which he might one day save himself.

Either way, she was of the opinion that Kanan needed a stout wakeup call to open his eyes to the world around him, so to speak. He thought he and Ezra could work alone or with minimal aid, and maybe they very well could. But others in the galaxy needed him. And whether he realized it or not, both of those boys needed whatever the Twi'lek had to offer.

For good or bad, things needed to change for Kanan, and for Ezra. But Maz sensed more good than bad from the Force. Hopefully that boy wouldn't screw it all up.

She had to give him credit though. Kanan had come close a few times, but he'd never proved himself unworthy of her and her help. And in this, he needed help and it was the least she could do to send it to him. Not that he would see it that way. At first.

Foolish boy.

Maz smirked as she recalled the lovely Hera, headstrong and bright and filled with so much goodness in the Force. A stabilizing factor. An immovable point. Maz shook her head in amusement as she turned back to the bar to help with the orders.

Foolish boy indeed. But she still had faith in him.

He'd figure it out. She was optimistic.

* * *

 

"Did you find anything?" Zeb asked once they were all back on board the  _Ghost_. "I take it that since you're all back in one piece, and nothing exploded, that they weren't there."

"They weren't," Sabine replied with an agitated sigh as she flopped on a seat. "R2 planted the tracker on someone else. He said it happened on Nar Shaddaa."

"The Smuggler's Moon?" Zeb scoffed in disbelief. "No way."

"That's a terrible choice of location for such high-profile individuals," AP agreed, calculating instantaneously before shaking his metal head. "Whoever it was that told you that is lying."

"We thought so too." Hera sat beside Sabine, and the Mandalorian's face told Hera she must have lost the Zabrak. It didn't matter though. Not when she had a promising new lead. "Chop. Pull up a map for the Lothal Sector."

Chopper chittered before a spacemap filled the air in blues and whites. Hera's eyes flashed.

"While you were looking for that Zabrak, Sabine, I had a talk with Maz. She knew something."

"You got to speak with the pirate queen?" Zeb said. "I always miss the good stuff."

"What did she say?" Sabine asked, rolling her eyes at the Lasat.

"She hinted that she's heard rumors of individuals like the Reaper and the Rider in the Lothal Sector. She didn't say where specifically, but ... we might find something there. Believe it or not, but I think she might really be on to something."

"The Lothal Sector?" Zeb eyed the map. "That's Imperial territory. Why would some of the Empire's most wanted hide out in an Imperially controlled sector?"

"What Imperial would suspect it?" Sabine questioned as she also examined the map. "Besides, it's so far out of the way. Who'd think to look there? It's more plausible than Nar Shaddaa, at least." The Mandalorian's eyes were bright. "I'm willing to check it out."

"Why not?" agreed Zeb with a shrug. "It's the pirate queen's word over some smuggler's."

"I'll plot a course, then," AP said, already standing. "There are several Imperial checkpoints between here and there. I'm sure I can find a less encumbered path."

"Get to it," Hera replied, pleased. This might be another wild bantha chase, but there was something about this ... something that felt right.

And there was only one way to find out.

Her green eyes scanned the holomap of the Lothal Sector before she called over her shoulder to AP-5.

"Find a way to Lothal. If we're going to the Lothal Sector, we might as well start there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So ... yeah. I love Maz and think she's the best mentor figure, and though she's a side-character in this story, she does make a few more appearances later in the story. I hope you like my take on her too and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Shifting Tides

"Kanan, the Twi'lek Hera Syndulla came to Takodana. She found me by the tracker her crew planted, like you suspected she would."

Kanan massaged his forehead for a moment before he slid his hand back through his long, dirty hair to give himself time to think. He knew it. He _knew it_ the moment Hera had said his name on Kessel, trying to stop him with her questions. She hadn't changed a bit since Gorse, and he suspected that her tenacious nature would become problematic if he wasn't careful.

He should have killed her. That would have been the smartest thing he could have done. He should have killed her on Gorse, and he should have killed her on Kessel.

Instead he hadn't been able to stop himself from pausing to look at her, his heart traitorous and attention snared.

Beautiful Hera.

 _Dangerous woman_ , Kanan corrected before returning his attention to the holoprojection of Proxy.

"Did she take the bait?"

"I believe so, though the Mandalorian girl attempted to track me after I left."

"I'm not surprised. Did she find you?"

Proxy shook his head. "I'd already switched disguises, just in case. She was still looking for my Zabrak disguise by the time I left."

Kanan nodded. Good news. Hopefully their luck would continue.

"Good work, Prox. If we're lucky they'll head for Nar Shaddaa and be out of our hair. By the time they realize they've been misled, there won't be a trail for them to find."

And if their luck really held, Hera would abandon this foolish hunt.

The Force shifted slightly about his shoulders as if amused, and Kanan did his best to resolutely ignore it.

"How was your trip to Cholganna?"

"Rosie's back home," Ezra replied as he leaned against the top of Kanan's seat to address the droid. For the first time in a week the boy smelled clean, which was beyond relief to Kanan's sharp senses. Ezra's short hair was still a little damp from the baths, but he seemed rejuvenated now that his work as the Rider — and now as one of Lothal's Loth-rats — was over for the time being.

Ezra's eyes flicked to Kanan's. "You know, I really felt in the Force that she wanted to stay with us. I think she'd prefer just staying here instead of always going back to Cholganna when we don't need her."

The imploring look in his apprentice's eyes did nothing to move Kanan.

"I told you no already, and I'm sticking to it," Kanan sighed, irked that he was going through this discussion  _again_. "We're not keeping a nexu with us here. She may be 'tame' for us, but she's still a nexu. Besides, where would we keep her? The food expense alone would destroy us. We're lucky we can get away with picking her up and leaving her on Cholganna."

"If you ask me, we need her more and more. I think it would be worth the expense. I'll even run more missions for Vizago to get the extra credits."

"You just want your giant fur ball around."

Ezra shrugged, blatant in his desire.

"Who wouldn't? Once you get over the teeth and claws, she's adorable. And as for where to put her? Here in the main atrium, obviously." Ezra gestured to the huge, cavernous room around them as if that fact alone proved to Kanan that keeping Rosie around was an achievable thing. "It's plenty big enough. I'd move things around so that she would be comfortable—"

"That's a first."

"—then there's outside. There's plenty of room outside. She could hunt for food out there, and we might not have to waste credits at all. It'll be fine."

"A growing beast like her won't to be able to survive on a diet of Loth-cat's. And you think no one's going to think it's strange that there's a nexu roaming the northern plains of Lothal?" Kanan shot his apprentice a look. He'd heard this proposal before and he still wasn't convinced. "The answer's still no."

Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Come on Kanan, I'm the Rider. I think it makes sense that, since the galaxy decided to name me that, I should have something to ride. Something to really build my reputation. I just need to dull a few of her quills, and Rosie would be perfect."

"You ride a bull rankor once — poorly I might add, because you almost got me killed — and suddenly you're the galaxy's greatest wrangler?" Kanan scoffed, half-annoyed and half-amused. "You've still got so much to learn."

"You know our missions with Rosie always go well."

"I know what it's like having that overgrown fur ball in the back of the ship," Kanan replied. "After you've completed your meditations, you're cleaning the hold of the  _Escape_ , by the way. I want it spotless."

"What do you think, Proxy?" Ezra asked, blatantly ignoring Kanan, and Kanan glowered and wished his apprentice was as cowed by the expression as he had been when the boy was younger. Proxy, to his credit, refrained from responding and Kanan half-turned in his seat.

"Why couldn't you be happy with a Loth-cat?"

"I can't exactly ride one. And they're not as terrifying as Rosie," the kid provided frankly, and Kanan secretly admitted it wasn't a bad point. No one stood in front of a nexu and didn't, at least for a moment, regret their life choices.

The answer was still a whole-hearted  _no_.

"When do you think you'll be back, Prox?" Kanan asked, turning back to the holodroid, and he was pleased that Ezra let the topic drop.

"Within several hours. After I left Takodana I thought it prudent to jump to a few more sectors, just in case."

"That's good. We'll see you when you get home."

The image of the holodroid faded and Ezra shifted behind Kanan, and in the silence of the large, ancient atrium, the sound carried. Ezra shifted again, tapping the toe of his boot on the dirt floor. And tapped it again. And again. Kanan sighed, a headache threatening to build at his apprentice's passive-aggressive methods.

"What is it?"

Ezra blurted, "Those rebels—"

"I remember explicitly saying _no_ to that too." He'd rather agree to keeping Rosie here at their base, and that was decidedly something he didn’t want to do. "Forget about the rebellion. We're not getting mixed up with them. What they do and what we do aren't compatible. I've already told you."

Once the mission on Kessel had ended, Ezra had debriefed him on what had happened during his confrontation with the Mandalorian girl. Apparently, Hera and company — on behalf of the larger rebellion — wished to count them, along with their skills and utterly  _glowing_  reputation, as a number among their assets. They'd come to extend an esteemed invitation into that growing whisper of galactic hope.

Kanan had almost laughed. The rebellion wanted to save the galaxy and restore the Republic. All Kanan and Ezra wanted to do was destroy the Empire.

Theirs was a mission of vengeance, not hope.

Ezra shrugged at his master. "It seemed like their mission was pretty compatible with ours, on Kessel. We were both there to save those Wookiees."

Kanan eyed his apprentice. To be fair, vengeance was what Kanan desired. And he had trained Ezra to grow into a Jedi, with the Order's teaching — mostly — intact. Maybe it wasn't surprising, then, that Ezra might consider those rebels with a little more attention than he was. Vengeance wasn't the way of the Jedi. Justice was. And in a lot of ways, the rebellion _was_ looking for justice.

But the rebellion was sure to get Ezra killed. At least with Kanan, Ezra would be safe.

"We just happened to be at the same place at the same time doing the same thing. It's called coincidence. It happens sometimes."

"Those times when it's not the Force?" Kanan's lips pressed tight. Kid was getting too smart for his own good. "You're always telling me that we should be aware, to listen to the signs the Force is giving us. Those rebels were even deliberately searching for us. I really think it's a sign."

"It's not, and the fact that they're searching for us intentionally is another reason we should forget about them, Ezra. We don't even know if they are who they say they are. The Empire might be laying a trap."

That was a bold-faced lie, and Kanan knew it. There was only one faction a woman like Hera would align herself with. Still, he kept it carefully concealed in the Force. He didn't want to give his apprentice the sense that he had a sinking feeling Ezra was right.

Somehow, he sensed Ezra knew anyway, despite what Kanan might do or say to the contrary. But Ezra let the conversation slide for the moment. His apprentice knew from years of experience when it was best to let a topic drop, and when to pursue it. Instead he produced an Imperial datacard from his pocket. Kanan lifted an eyebrow expectantly. Clearly the kid had lifted it on his jaunt into Capital City earlier.

"Who'd you pull that off of?"

Ezra shrugged.

"Some holier-than-thou officer with a stick up his ass. Not that he even noticed a Loth-rat like me lifting it."

Kanan took the card from Ezra and activated it on their console. The screen flashed, demanding an activation code. They both frowned. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem. Proxy had a special talent with working his way around codes like these, but he wasn't here. If they wanted to see what was on the datacard, they needed an Imperial activation code, and Kanan wanted to know. Ezra grinned at his master.

"Tag, you're it?"

"I guess I am." Kanan stood from his chair, his joints popping as he stretched the stiffness from his muscles. Access codes wouldn't be hard to get. This would be easy. "Anything else I should know about?"

A yawn pressed its way out of him as he walked to where his beggar disguise waited for him on a peg buried in the stone wall. They'd been back on Lothal a full day and he hadn't stopped to rest yet. He looked forward to coming back later. He'd have a proper meal, a bath, and some real rest then.

"No. It was pretty quiet while I was there." Ezra followed Kanan, and Kanan could feel Ezra's concern gently radiate in the Force.

"What is it, Ezra?"

"You know, you could take a break. I bet you haven't even slept since we got back."

Kanan would have praised him for his observation if he didn't already see where this was going.

"Too much to do."

"That's my point though. You're always working. I'm sure this can wait. I doubt whatever's on the datacard is that great."

"You should be happy I work so much," Kanan countered. "Most of the time I'm working on training  _you_. Besides, this is hardly work."

Ezra rolled his eyes as he stopped following to sit at his workbench. On the tabletop lay a haphazard collection of mechanical parts and gizmo's in various stages of production. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. We only just got off mission to not only Kessel, but to Cholganna to get Rosie back home, all the while running circles trying to get those rebels off our tail—"

"That was necessary," Kanan pointed out.

"—then we get back and you have me off to recon so you can, what? Plan out another mission? And I know that you've also been training since we got back. You haven't slept much lately, I know you haven't. You need to take a break, Kanan."

"No rest for the wicked, Apprentice. And I can't exactly waste this dirty getup." He gestured to the week-old dirt he'd carefully maintained. "Trust me, all I want right now is food, a bath, and some rest. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to get back? I'm starting to itch." Kanan shrugged on his gritty, crusty beggar's robe disguise with a grin.

"You want good intel, and that takes time," Ezra said blandly. "And you could have gone with me instead of waiting around for me to get back."

It was true. Kanan could have gone with Ezra when the boy went earlier to Capital City on his mission. By now they both could have finally cleaned off the grime.

But he thought it more pertinent to spend the time, instead, cleaning off what was on the inside of him. For both his and Ezra's sakes, that was the better choice. And that was something Kanan preferred to do in absolute solitude, when it was possible.

"There were other things that needed taking care of."

Ezra sighed. "Of course there was, Master." The kid picked up a screwdriver. Kanan lifted an eyebrow.

"I believe you have real training to do."

"I am training," Ezra responded before he lifted his current project. "Tinkering is training. I’m honing my focus, creativity, and reasoning skills." Under his breath he added, "It's not like I have a nexu to train or anything."

"And there it is again," Kanan said as with a put-upon sigh as he turned toward the entrance of their base. "Meditate, Ezra. You need to hone your focus through meditation. If you'd been more aware, that Mandalorian wouldn't have gotten the slip on you and planted that tracker."

"That Mandalorian would have managed to put a tracker on you," Ezra mumbled. "I still don't know how she did it."

Until Kanan confronted the Mandalorian girl himself — which he had no plans of doing as it were — he couldn't say. But he'd stay sharp, just in case. If a teenaged Mandalorian could do it, then it was just as possible the Empire might get lucky one day as well. They needed to be more vigilant. It couldn't happen again.

"Should be back by sunset."

Ezra nodded, hardly lifting his head from his project, and Kanan left.

* * *

 

In truth, recon and thievery like what he was about to do was a therapeutic practice for Kanan. Although there had been real and pressing reasons why he hadn't joined his apprentice earlier on Ezra's recon mission, a smaller drive had been that he'd simply wanted some time alone. Kanan wasn't stupid, he knew Ezra had craved the time apart as much as he did. Two weeks straight on mission with no breathing room between them made it inevitable, but in Kanan's secret heart, when it came to these types of missions, he preferred to do them solo.

Settling in, he sat and started acting the part of the weary and the downtrodden. Kanan lifted a beat-up bowl he used to persuade passerbys to part with their hard-won credits, and quietly begged.

As usual they passed by him without a glance, or in some cases a guilty or a condemning one, but he didn't mind. It was an act anyway, and the point wasn't exactly to beg for credits, or be remembered. It was to be forgotten. To hide in plain sight. He never did more than keep his face down and jingle his bowl near the others begging more aggressively than he was, and that was enough. In moments they'd see and forget him, and that was perfect.

The act allowed him to almost fade into the shadows and listen. Usually when he played this part, there wasn't a real goal behind it. It was reconnaissance. To get a sense of the Empire and what it was doing, at least on Lothal, and if he came away with good information, even better.

But he had a goal right now, and this secret sort of espionage was his specialty, something Ezra definitely couldn't focus enough to master. At least, not to Kanan's extent.

It was a good thing his apprentice didn't have reason to need to.

Kanan focused. He breathed. He centered himself carefully in the Force.

It hadn't taken Kanan long to get the access code, once he'd patiently situated himself nearby the Imperial headquarters, in one of his favorite spots. It was a heavily traversed place for both civilians and Imperials, where it wasn't strange to see the needy beg. He didn't stick out at all. The Imperials didn't like it, but they hadn't chased any of them away yet.

Once he was there he began to listen. And he began to watch.

With focus honed over almost sixteen years of practice, he'd found in the Force an appropriate Imperial to mentally follow with his heightened Force senses. It was easy after that. Kanan had simply maintained a patient vigil for a few hours and, like a specter on the Imperial’s shoulder, waited for the Imperial to input his activation code on a datapad from within the safety of the Imperial headquarters. Then he memorized it and drew himself back mentally to his body. In the hours that had passed in his deep focus, no one had bothered him. No one was the wiser that he'd succeeded in pilfering information directly from the Empire like a ghost.

Now, given he'd gotten what he'd come for, it was about time to go. It was getting late, and the walkways were thinning out. He didn't have much longer before he'd have to call it a night and head back home.

All things considered, he wanted to call it now. He'd gotten what he'd come for and now that he had, his attention was starting to fray. Kanan wanted to get back and have an actual meal instead of a few stolen bites, and by the Force, he wanted to bathe — he could hardly stand the smell of himself right now. He wanted to sleep.

But when he prepped his muscles for movement, he was surprised to feel something in the Force which caught his curiosity and attention. Something that radiated, like an out of tune instrument. Instead of leaving like he'd planned, he stayed right where he was and kept up his beggar persona for just a little longer, like the Force suggested.

And as always, it was right. Not five minutes later a small group appeared around the corner, a teenaged girl in Mandalorian armor, a Lasat, and between them an unfortunately familiar Twi'lek woman.

Hera.

Damn it.

As he stoically tracked them, careful to maintain his cover, he wasn't sure what he felt more. Reluctant and unsurprised resignation, or the very edges of fury. What was Hera _doing_ here? That was a stupid question, he felt certain he could guess at what she was doing here. But why was she  _here_? She should be across the galaxy right now, on Nar Shaddaa. Instead, against all odds, she and her crew for some reason had come to Lothal.

Kanan hated it. This didn't feel like chance. This didn't feel like coincidence.

He didn't want to admit what Ezra suspected.

Hera's group neared, and in his best impression of a destroyed old beggar, head down and filthy hair a thick curtain, he asked in an aged voice, "Spare credits?"

The Lasat continued on as most others might, the Mandalorian spared him a sympathetic glance, but Hera — of course it would be Hera — paused.

A few credits settled into his bowl and Kanan said in a raspy voice, "Thank you." He still didn't turn his head up, letting his dirty, bedraggled, and filthy appearance do the talking for him, but Hera smiled kindly anyway.

"You're welcome."

Kanan resolutely ignored the part of him which rose at the beautiful tone of her voice, that quietly begged her to speak again. Instead he gave her a solemn and fatigued nod as he drew his dirty collection bowl back close again, giving nothing away but weathered submission.

In moments the group moved on, and Kanan reached into the Force and began to focus once more, his hearing already sharpening.

The Lasat, clearly Hera's muscle and who seemed to possess as much tact as could be found on the tip of a needle, chided Hera for her kindness even though they were all still well within earshot. "He's just going to use those credits to buy spice or booze. It would have been better if you'd given him some food, or left him alone. You're feeding an addiction when you do that."

Inwardly Kanan smirked. Spice. Alcohol. As if he'd spend credits destroying his mind when he could be destroying the Empire. But he didn't let his amusement show. Instead he let his shoulders fall and his head dip deeper as if in old shame, making it clear he'd heard the big guy. Hera glared.

"We don't know that," she said lowly as they passed from normal hearing range by crossing into the next street over. His control in the Force transitioned smoothly, and he continued to listen to them as if they'd stopped to talk over him, thanks to his Force improved hearing.

"Any leads, Sabine?"

"Not yet," the Mandalorian, Sabine, told Hera. "I've asked around and checked what records I could, but I haven't been able to find a thing on them. That's not to say they aren't though. Most of this planet consists of fields and farms and mines. With the exception of Capital City and a few other places, this planet's not too urbanized. They could still be here and no one would know."

Kanan knew who 'they' were supposed to be, and unable to stop himself, Kanan gave the smallest of sighs. He knew it. But once again, how had they even thought to look here? Had Proxy accidentally tipped them off? But how could he? The droid wasn't back yet, and it seemed Hera and her team had been here for a while now. How had they thought to look for them here on Lothal?

"We'll keep asking around. See if anyone's seen a pair of men who might have traveled through recently."

"Yes, because we're sure to find someone who's seen a scythe wielding nut-job and his nexu riding friend," the Lasat snarked and Hera sighed.

"At least it's something to work off of. There's still a few more places to look in this sector, but we should be thorough before we decide to move on, just in case."

Kanan let his enhanced Force hearing go before he tucked away the credits he'd managed to collect into a hidden pocket, and was reluctantly satisfied with what he'd heard. All they had to find them by was the scythe and the nexu, which all things considered wasn't much given that they never showed those distinguishing objects to anyone except their targets, and certainly not on Lothal. And it seemed that Hera and her team weren't entirely sure they were on the correct planet anyway. They were safe, so long as he and Ezra kept their heads down. It was just a matter of letting Hera find nothing so she'd move on.

A small part of him wanted to tail them, to be sure. To follow after and listen in, but that was nothing more than a selfish whim. A whim he thought had dwindled away to nothing after five years. But to do that, to follow after Hera was foolish. The best thing to do was nothing, and to let them find nothing. Not give them a reason to stay. If they realized they were being followed, for whatever reason, they wouldn't leave.

And that was the last thing he wanted, and the last thing he and Ezra needed. Kanan would leave them alone, Hera and company would leave, and he would ensure they would never run into that small band of do-gooders again.

That was what needed to happen.

Kanan heaved his body up as if it were the hardest thing he'd ever done, as if his joints ached from the treatment, and he slowly made his way out of the city and back home.

No one followed him.

* * *

 

"They're here," Kanan told his apprentice once he'd returned to base, and Ezra opened his eyes and frowned from where he sat in meditation. "The rebels are on Lothal."

Ezra stared at him, stunned. "What?"

"They were in Capital City looking for us," he replied as he shed his beggar's robes and paraphernalia. He jingled the collected credits to let them sound. "Their leader even gave us funds for our next mission. Thoughtful, huh?"

"They're  _here_?"

Well, Kanan had to admit he was pleased with his apprentice's reaction. It was the correct reaction, and he should be alarmed and on guard. This wasn't a good thing, even if it was accidental. One wrong move and they'd be exposed. The Empire would come down on them with all the might of the Emperor. Ezra was already on his feet.

"Do they know where we are?"

Kanan shook his head. "But they're looking for us. I don't know how they narrowed down the Lothal sector, but they're searching. As far as I can tell, they're just checking the planet before they move on to the next."

"None of this would have happened if they hadn't gotten that tracker on me."

Guilt and self-anger ebbed from Ezra. Although his apprentice hadn't said anything, Kanan knew Ezra had been worried ever since discovering the tracker. They were usually so careful, Kanan had trained the boy to be that careful. And to find he hadn't been careful enough? Ezra was beating himself up black and blue over the mishap.

But he needed to let it go.

Kanan slipped a hand onto the boy's shoulder and gave him an understanding look.

"It will be all right, Ezra. They don't have anything to go on besides the scythe and Rosie. There's no way they can trace us here, so long as we're careful from now on. We'll just let them pass."

Ezra nodded though his guilt didn't lessen, but he did look up again. "Did you get the access code?"

Kanan rolled a shoulder as he let go of Ezra before heading into the base's small kitchen for some much needed food. Just the thought of it made Kanan's stomach roar, and that at least seemed to amuse the boy.

"Get that datacard up on the screen. I'll tell you the code."

Ezra did as he was told and Kanan repeated the code he'd collected as he scooped up some stew Ezra had made while he'd been out. Behind him he felt Ezra's surprise in the Force.

"What's on it?"

"Imperial movement schedules for several high-ranking officials in the sector, and some of the surrounding ones." The kid paused as he scanned the information before his eyebrows raised. "Kanan, it's movement schedules for the next three quarters." Ezra turned to his master as Kanan shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth. He didn't taste it though. Not when his mind was whirling as he took in the information.

Leave it to his apprentice to find a detailed hit-list for the next three quarters. Aside from the presence of Hera and her crew, it seemed that Fortune smiled on them today.

"Search for any movement in the next week," Kanan told his apprentice as he pulled a chair closer. With practiced efficiency, Ezra produced a few hits from his query. One in particular, a mid-grade officer in charge of a small fleet of Star Destroyers, spoke to Kanan.

The Reaper in him was already itching to leave. From across the atrium he could feel the pull of his scythe from within its sheath, hot and hungry. Ready.

Resolutely he ignored it and continued to consume his meal though it sat at the bottom of his stomach, untasted, forgotten, and nothing more than nutrition to keep his body moving. Logistics filled his mind. They were still well supplied, for the time being, and they had enough fuel for a while yet if they only took one of the ships. With this list, they'd have ample work for the better part of a year, if they chose their targets carefully. And so long as they returned to Lothal sparingly, even losing those rebels would turn into an easy venture.

It took Kanan a while to realize Ezra was staring at him, flabbergast. He arched an eyebrow at the boy, letting Ezra know he had his attention.

"No, Kanan," Ezra insisted, and it seemed that eight, bordering on nine years of companionship had enabled the boy to read his mind. "Kanan, we just got back!"

"Gear up, Apprentice. We've got work to do and rebels to lose," Kanan said as he consumed the last of his meal. Through the Force he found that Proxy had just arrived. The holodroid walked with an uplifted step into the atrium at seeing his human masters and for finally arriving home. Kanan addressed the droid.

"Prox, run full diagnostics on the  _Kasmiri_ and start stocking her for a three-month projection. Camouflage the  _Escape_  while you're at it. We won't be taking it, and I don't want Vizago to accidentally find and ‘acquire’ it while we're gone."

Proxy paused, his photoreceptors flashing in surprise.

"Now, Kanan?"

"Yes, now." Kanan caught the look Ezra shared with Proxy. The droid knew the original plan was to lay low here at the base for at least a month. Proxy would know something important had changed if they were about to head out again, and for so long.

Ezra took a breath. "But Kanan—"

"We'll leave in the morning. I suggest you rest while you can, Apprentice."

The tone in his voice left no room for discussion, and in the Force Kanan could feel Ezra's exasperation. But Ezra knew better than to challenge him. Not on matters like this.

"Yes, Master."

Kanan walked passed the droid to the other end of the atrium, toward the baths and the age-old barracks rooms. But he paused beside his scythe where it rested in its sheath. Behind him he could feel Ezra's eyes burn into him, watching. Waiting.

Slowly he slipped his fingers around the familiar metal, and it practically purred at the attention. The better part of him, as always, wanted to leave it alone. Forget about it and abandon it. But the Reaper in him needed it, and he pulled the weapon from its sheath before collapsing it down into a maneuverable rectangular shape of skeletal and deadly metal.

Ezra's shoulders slumped, and the boy turned away and began to discuss the supply list with Proxy.

Kanan left them both to it while he dropped his weapon off in his room before he finally took his damned bath while he still had the luxury to do so.

* * *

 

AP-5 paused, his attention abruptly caught and he had to resist the urge to turn his head so his mechanical hearing was better oriented. Before him Chopper continued on, obliviously plotting the next prank in store for the Lasat member of their crew.

AP-5 had stopped for good reason. Although this jaunt to Lothal was in search of the irksome vigilante pair, AP-5 was well aware that Captain Syndulla would appreciate any information he might be able to unearth concerning lucrative potential missions, almost as much as information on R2.

What he could hear from the Imperials nearby sounded a great deal like a lucrative potential mission.

AP-5 almost fell over when Chopper slammed into his legs, warbling in a way that made the protocol droid sigh heavily in annoyance.

"I am clearly working, which is more than you can say," droned AP-5 as he caught himself and decided that it was probably better to reposition himself anyway. "Make yourself useful."

Chopper gurgled, waving his mechanical arms around and if AP-5 had organic eyes, he was sure he would have rolled them. Sometimes he envied the organic members of the crew for their greater range of emotional expression. His mechanical range was very limiting.

"The Imperials were talking about movement records," AP-5 explained to his counterpart, and Chopper's top swiveled to look at the small Imperial station carefully. He made a very distinctive beep before drawing his arms back in to regard AP-5 as a series of warbled sounds filled the air. Before the protocol droid could tell him off for such a foolish plan, the astromech was already speedily rolling away.

If AP-5 were capable of simmering, he was sure he would have. But he was not, and it wasn't in his programming. He settled with deep disapproval and an exasperated mechanical sigh before he straightened up and helped his foolish friend with his equally foolish plan by distracting the Imperial guards.

As predicted, the impromptu mission degraded quickly, ending with the guards forgetting about AP-5 as Chopper managed significant havoc after slicing and taking information directly from the Imperial server.

They met up and escaped the Imperials just as the Imperial station exploded.

Predictably, Captain Syndulla commed the both of them immediately after.

"Where are you? What's going on?"

Chopper chittered and avoided the question. AP-5 kicked the astromech.

"Chop? AP?"

"We ran into complications with the Imperials. It's taken care of."

"That's putting it lightly. I assume the explosion was your doing?"

Chopper was quick to take credit for his part in the plan.

"You're both all right?" Captain Syndulla asked. "What happened?"

 _Foolishness_ , AP-5 would have preferred to admit. Instead he replied, "Through a series of events, we have acquired intel you might find useful." He looked down at the astromech, questioningly. "Haven't we?"

Chopper warbled an obvious affirmative. Apparently he'd collected information concerning the scheduled movements of several high-ranking Imperials in this and nearby sectors, set for the next three quarters.

The captain sighed. "Get back to the  _Ghost_  so we can look through it. We haven't turned up anything on our end, so this is something, I guess. Might as well see if anything's useful."

Chopper waved his arms around in triumph before rolling toward the hanger, continuing to explain to AP-5 the prank he had planned for the Lasat.

Once again, AP-5 envied his organic counterparts, but followed after his astromech friend anyway, rattling off statistics and berating him for the foolishness he was sure to find the both of them in soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a Kanan chapter! I've been so excited to get into his head, and I hope that you like this Kanan as much as I hope you're intrigued by his differences from canon Kanan.
> 
> Alright, a few things I'd like to address:  
> 1 - Agent Kallus was not on Kessel when the two groups crossed paths, and is still alive and kicking somewhere in the galaxy. We'll just have to see how and where, though.  
> 2 - Proxy. Proxy is originally a holodroid from a Legends story: Star Wars the Force Unleashed, so for those of you who suspected, your suspicions were well founded. Not only have I shamelessly attempted to save Proxy from Legends, but I also think he makes a very good addition to the type of team Kanan and Ezra make up. I hope you'll come to like him as much as I do. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll give you a hint at the direction the next chapter is taking. It's title is called 'Convergence'. Until next week's chapter!


	5. Convergence

Garel hung in the void of space before the  _Kasmiri’s_  viewport, and Kanan watched the planet grow bigger and more defined as Proxy guided them closer.

Their target was down there, a vice admiral, and the Reaper in him was ready.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this, Master,” Ezra commented as he made final adjustments to his outfit before letting the cloak fall to conceal his body in its anonymous shroud. “Don’t you feel it? Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“And miss a vice admiral?” Kanan shot back with a grin. “Come on. You know those are hard to come by.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s what’s bothering me,” his apprentice said, stepping up next to Kanan to watch Garel. “You’d think there would be a greater Imperial presence. But it looks the same as it always does.”

Reluctantly, Kanan checked the Force, and he quietly admitted that he had expected … more from the Empire. There was a vice admiral on that planet, and if he hadn’t already known, he’d never have guessed. But perhaps that was the point. Why broadcast an important Imperial presence like a bullseye, if you didn’t need to? It wasn’t exactly the Empire’s style, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d come across an Imperial with half a brain. Rare as it was.

Still, Ezra was right. There was something in the Force that felt off. He tried to coax the Force into giving him an answer, but it remained quiet and waiting as it ever was. Nothing could be gleaned there.

What to do? Reason dictated that they wait, scope it out just a little longer, but the Reaper in him was persuasive and insistent. After all, vice admirals _were_ rare, and there was no telling how long their window of opportunity would last. They shouldn’t waste it while they had it.

“We’ll be careful,” Kanan decided as he slipped the skeleton of his collapsed scythe into its holster on his back. Its humid warmth sank through the armor of his back and into his flesh, making his skin prickle underneath. It was never a comfortable feeling, but for the mission he needed it, and he’d keep the weapon nowhere else. At least on his back, it was safe.

He wondered about that, sometimes.

For a moment he considered the virtues of taking along a blaster just in case, but decided against it. The Reaper’s weapon was the scythe, and the scythe only. Besides, Ezra had his back, and if worse came to worse, Kanan would _acquire_ a blaster from someone else. If he needed one, chances were there would be plenty around to choose from at that point.

Kanan felt Ezra’s lingering hesitance whisper through the Force, and he faced his apprentice.

“It’ll be fine, Ezra. If things go lopsided, we’ll abort the mission.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “When have you ever aborted a mission?”

“I do it sometimes. I’m not that crazy.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Ezra said bluntly, and maybe that was fair. When Kanan had his heart set on achieving the goals of a mission, Ezra had to be in real danger, or they had to be on the brink of death before he decided they needed to turn tail and run. Ezra sighed. “Kanan, I really don’t think we should do this one.”

Kanan mirrored the gesture. “I’ll grant that there is … something in the Force that feels strange, but it might be nothing. Or at least, nothing to do with us. Besides, there’s very little we can’t handle. We’ll be fine.”

“This is a bad idea,” Ezra insisted a final time with a shake of his head, but there was a resigned tone to his voice that told Kanan the boy would follow along anyway.

“If things go wrong, you can tell me you told me so, after. But until then,” Kanan put his hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I need your head in the game, Apprentice.”

“My head’s always in the game.” His tone was surly, and Kanan’s lip pulled into a one-sided smirk. But Ezra was right. His apprentice had never let him down. Kanan let his hand drop as he watched Garel grow into a city, filled with tall buildings and speeders and constant, dizzying motion that registered like white-noise to his senses.

“After this mission … how about you decide the next one?”

Ezra’s head jerked up so fast Kanan wondered if the boy had given himself whiplash, but then his eyes narrowed cautiously.

“Really? You’re serious?”

“Of course,” Kanan replied with a shrug. “Why not?”

“But you never let me decide the mission. And besides, what if I decide I don’t want to do an assassination? What if I want to do something else?”

“What do you have in mind?” Kanan wasn’t opposed to doing something else. Assassinations were simply Kanan’s specialty, but he knew Ezra valued other methods for inducing Imperial mayhem.

“Dunno,” Ezra muttered with a shrug as he lifted his head to watch the city around them, and Kanan knew the boy was lying. “But you’ll let me choose? Whatever I want to do?”

Kanan considered his apprentice curiously. “Just so long as it’s something the Empire would not thank us for, Ezra, I don’t care. Now, do you want to, or not?”

Ezra smirked and muted enthusiasm pulsed out from the kid, even as he made clear efforts to play it cool.

“What do you think? A chance to pick a mission? Of course I’m going to take it.”

“Well, I figure you’ve been doing this long enough that you can’t exactly screw it up,” Kanan teased, and Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “But really, Ezra. Once this mission is over, you can pick the next.”

The kid’s enthusiasm morphed into excitement in the Force, excitement Ezra didn’t even try to hide now, and Kanan chuckled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Ezra this excited about anything. It warmed his heart.

Proxy neared their drop point and Kanan pulled on his helmet just as Ezra fitted his half-mask on, and pulled up his hood. To check the comms, he said to Ezra, “Just remember, Apprentice. Head in the game. Don’t let your excitement to finish the mission make you foolish.”

“I’m completely in control, Master.”

He hoped so.

The  _Kasmir_ i hovered above the roof of a building not far from where the vice admiral was supposed to be. Game time.

“Good luck,” Proxy told them from the pilot’s seat, and the ramp went down.

They slipped from the  _Kasmiri_  and into the darkness, moving like shadows through the night toward the tallest Imperial building in the city.

* * *

 

“Did you see that?” Sabine squinted at her monitor, and beside her Zeb lounged, bobbing his foot in time to some imagined tune, bored after five hours of eventless stakeout.

“See what?”

Sabine glowered. “There!” Pointing at the monitor, she replayed the last five seconds of footage. There! She’d been right! Two shadows flickered into the frame and vanished. One was shrouded in a dark cloak. The other wore an avian mask.

Excitement made Sabine’s muscles itch for movement, and she caught Hera’s eyes as the Twi’lek surged to her feet.

“They’re here.”

“Then let’s go,” Hera told them, drawing her blaster. “Just like we planned.”

This had been a gamble. After the droids had collected the data on Imperial moment schedules well into the next year, they’d decided to switch gears. Searching aimlessly for the Reaper and the Rider was exactly that; aimless. But they knew R2’s motivations, and with the data they could at least make an educated guess as to where their vigilantes might make their next appearance. This hadn’t been their first stakeout using this new method, but it was the first R2 had shown up for, and Sabine wasn’t exactly surprised. The target was too good to resist.

But there was something bothering her about this, and she figured it out once they’d succeeded in infiltrating the Imperial building without encountering a soul. She’d held out hope that they were just lucky, but this was too easy. Too clean.

“Shade-1, something’s wrong.”

“What is it, Shade-4?”

Sabine saw Zeb eyeing the area, bo-rifle raised, but his green eyes were narrowed and suspicious. He knew what was wrong.

“Where are the Imperials? This place should be infested.”

“Shade-3’s right.” It was possible that R2 had cleared the way, but there would be evidence to support that. There should be Imperials in this building, especially with a vice admiral located somewhere inside.

Supposedly.

“This is a trap,” Sabine declared, dashing over to the nearest computer so that she could slice into the records and video feed to figure out not only what was going on, but also where R2 were. Sabine’s fingers rapidly tapped in commands, her eyes a shrewd scan before she sucked in a breath. R2 were way ahead of them.

And she’d been right. They were about to enter a trap.

“Shade-4?” Hera demanded, and Sabine glanced over her shoulder and saw that both Hera and Zeb had drawn closer, hackles raised and blasters pointed out to cover her back. Zeb lifted an eyebrow.

“Definitely a trap, and they’re about to spring it. If we want to get to them before they do, we need to move fast.”

“What’s your idea?”

The others didn’t know it, but one reason Sabine loved her helmet was not only because it was a technological and artistic masterpiece, but also because it hid her features from view. It protected the others from finding out face-first that she often had no idea what the plan was until she made it up. Her confidence was a mixture of pure Mandalorian bravado and an analytic mind, but right now she was scrambling. She needed a minute, and instinct more than anything told her she did not have it.

But they needed to do something.

Basics then.

“They’re way ahead of us. We need to take a lift. I’ll be able to slice into the mainframe and get us there, but I don’t know what sort of force is waiting for them.” The data she’d managed to scan had been sparse and full of holes, telling enough, but it was the general layout and placement of R2 which made her sure. Time at the Imperial Academy had taught her more than a few of the Empire’s tactical maneuvers. This one was, unfortunately, a classic one. “I don’t know if they’ll need backup or not, but if we go up there, we’ll be dragged in too. The moment the Empire has them, they’ll lock down the building.”

Hera looked away, brow drawn as she weighed their options, when Zeb abruptly straightened and threw himself at the Twi’lek. Sabine reacted on instinct, diving for the nearest cover, a desk, before she drew her blasters and took aim.

A small seeker droid hung in the air right where Hera had been, and Sabine immediately trained her sights on it and fired. The bolt would have hit true if the small droid hadn’t weaved at the precise moment, but instead of flying forward in attack like Sabine had expected, it flipped in the air and retreated.

Right into the outstretched palm of a narrow woman in lithe, black Imperial armor.

The woman’s mask withdrew and her Mirialan features were revealed. Yellow eyes regarded them with a look part amused and part intrigued.

“Hmm, somehow I don’t think you’re the one’s I’m looking for.” Her voice was unnerving and unconcerned, even though the odds were clearly in their favor and not in hers. “Strange that you’re here. Do you work with them? This trap was very specific in design. It wouldn’t draw in just any old flies.”

Sabine eyed the Imperial woman and watched as she reached behind her to pull out something circular.

Her heart threatened to stop when twin crimson beams manifested from both sides. She’d only heard rumor of those sorts of weapons in the Imperial Academy, like myths. That had to be a lightsaber weapon, one used exclusively by the Empire.

This woman was an Inquisitor. A Jedi hunter.

Momentary bewilderment froze her limbs. If she was here, that had to mean there was a Jedi in the building. But … that couldn’t be right. All the Jedi had been exterminated in the purge.

Hadn’t they?

Her mind snapped back to itself, and given all the evidence they were eyeballs deep in right now, this all made sense. This was a trap designed with the Reaper and the Rider in mind, because hadn’t it been a lucky find that AP and Chop had found such tailor-made information? If the crew had been able to find the data, the vigilantes would have too, and if she’d been R2, she would have come here as well.

And if this trap had been set up with them in mind, and there were Jedi hunters here, one of them must be a Jedi. It was the only thing that made sense.

“No?” the Jedi hunter asked, lips pursed as if dismayed when none of them had made a sound in response to her query. “I suppose I’ll have to capture one of you then, just to be certain. Now, which one of you looks like you have the information I want? I certainly don’t need all of you.”

Beside her, Hera’s posture was hard and steady as if she wasn’t surprised to see the Jedi hunter, and Sabine wondered if Hera had known they might be tracking a Force user. But now wasn’t the time for questions like that. If she was right, this was about to get much more dangerous than they’d planned for. If there was ever a time to be on their game, it was now. She’d heard the rumors about the types of things Jedi hunters could do. Impossible things. Deadly things.

Sabine waited for Hera’s orders, and she was rewarded with them.

“Run,” Hera hissed, and Zeb flashed a glance at their leader. “We need to get to them before she does. Shade-4? I think it’s time for some art.”

“Just what I was thinking.” Sabine eyed the colorful spray-paint explosives she’d set along the walls near the Inquisitor when they’d first come in, and with a swift command, she detonated them.

The explosion was as good as it ever was, but she couldn’t enjoy it. Not when her attention was narrowed, trying to determine if the explosion had been good enough to stop the Inquisitor.

She didn’t think so, not when she saw a flare of angry red eat a sharp line through the rubble.

“Come on!” Hera yelled, and Sabine was already moving, checking her forearm monitor for directions to the nearest lift.

“We won’t have long. We need to get up as far as we can before they lock down the lifts.”

“Where are they?” Zeb growled as he passed them to take the point position, moving with practiced efficiency as Sabine called out directions.

“One hundred seventy-ninth floor.” They were only on the second.

“Karabast!”

Sabine’s sentiments exactly, but there was no use cursing about it now. They had somewhere to be.

“Next left,” Sabine said, and an instant later they were piled into a lift and Sabine set the command for the one hundred seventy-ninth floor. From her monitor she kept an eye on any Imperial commands which would stop them, or in a worst-case scenario, drop them, and worked preemptively to keep them at bay as the lift lifted and lifted. Behind her Hera was issuing orders to the  _Ghost_ , placing the droids in case the ground team needed a quick getaway, and Zeb stayed ready with his rifle as he watched the lift numbers change rapidly through the double digits into the triple. The higher the numbers raced, the harder her heart beat, and they were in the one-seventies when the Imperials finally forced her out of the system. The lift came to a stop.

“Zeb,” Hera urged and the Lasat holstered his rifle to pry the lift doors open, peeking through to make sure no one with blasters waited them.

The lights of the lift flickered, and Sabine looked at her monitor as ice blossomed along her spine. “Zeb, hurry! They’re about to drop us!”

Zeb roared with exertion, throwing the doors open and as a group they dove through just as the lift entered freefall. Sabine felt the ledge of the lift scrape against her boot, and adrenaline flooded her body, making her sweat and prickle and move.

Hera was on her feet, blaster raised.

“Where are we, Sabine?”

“Five floors below them,” Sabine replied. “We’ll have to take the stairs the last few.”

“Then we need to go now, before they send reinforcements that way too,” Hera replied. The lights on the floor began flashing. Not good. They didn’t have much time now.

“Blow the lift!” Hera commanded as she lead the way. “That should stop the Red Blade and any other Imperials for a while. Let’s go!”

Sabine tossed an explosive into the shaft, and they were already gone by the time it exploded and rendered the way impossible to follow.

* * *

 

Kanan frowned when he felt the building shake, and it deepened when the muffled sound of an explosion followed, rolling gently through his body with its remnant kinetic energy. Ezra stilled, head tilting slowly.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Kanan replied. “But I think we need to speed up our timetable.”

Without words they moved in unison, preparing for a battle, but as had been the case thus far, the way had been unencumbered. They’d run into one lonely guard early on, but nothing else since, and _that_ more than anything put Kanan on high alert. Ezra had been right. Something was wrong about this.

On a whim he checked what that explosion had been, and almost stumbled when a familiar Force presence burned like a brilliant beacon in his mind. That couldn’t be right. There was no way.

Hera. Hera and her crew.

He couldn’t stop the tiny ripple of disbelief that slipped into the Force, and Ezra turned and looked at him curiously from under his deep hood.

“Company,” Kanan replied. “Your friends are here.”

Bewilderment edged the Force, slipping past Ezra’s Force suppression. “What? My friends?”

“Seems those rebels are here, a few floors down.”

Shock fluttered in the Force. Seemed Ezra hadn’t expected them either.

“What are they  _doing_  here?”

“I don’t know,” was all he replied before he crept forward, disconcerted. What was Hera doing here? Had she somehow placed another tracker on them? Once was a coincidence. Twice was questionable. Three times showing up when least expected?

Impossible. Something was up.

“What do you want to do?” Ezra asked, his hand on his blaster, and though the boy was steady there was a cautious, concerned edge to the line of his shoulders. Instinct told Kanan he should call it now. The mission was going to go sideways fast, soon. They would lose all stealth. They should leave while they could. That was the logical course of action. They could try again another time.

The Reaper in him seethed and pushed.

“We might still be able to take out the vice admiral,” Kanan said through gritted teeth. “We just have to be fast. Tell Proxy to be ready.”

He didn’t need to see the boy’s eyes to know he was staring.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You know we should leave, and now you want to rush this? We both know that’s not a good idea.”

“We’re not rushing, we’re improvising. It’s a tactic, Apprentice. You should know that by now.”

Ezra huffed, but followed after Kanan as they neared the conference room. Kanan sent his Force sense out into the room to check what sort of fight they should expect from the vice admiral’s security.

But what came back made him freeze, and his hand shot out and latched onto Ezra’s shoulder in a harsh, bruising grip.

In that same moment they both jerked their heads to stare at some point beyond the door. Hot, putrid heat bellowed in the Force as it swept over the them like oppressive humidity. Kanan’s focus narrowed. Even after so long, he remembered the feel of that presence in the Force, and in that instant the mission was immediately aborted.

After almost nine years, it became clear that Ezra hadn’t forgotten either. The boy was frozen in Kanan’s grip, and Kanan could feel Ezra’s fear soar high like a sharp note in the Force. Too sharp for a Force user not to notice. He’d broken his Force stealth.

Not good. He needed to get Ezra out of here.

“Ka—!”

“Calm down!” Kanan said quickly before Ezra completely lost his Force stealth in the fear which radiated from him like a burning sun. “Remember what I taught you. Concentrate! Control your emotions. Suppress your expression.”

Kanan could feel Ezra’s struggle in the Force before his apprentice took a deep, calming breath, and his emotional expression in the Force immediately began to shrink and dwindle. It wasn’t perfect, and no matter how long or how hard he trained the boy in Force stealth, it just wasn’t a strength of Ezra’s. But it was good enough, and Kanan knew it was only because he was so familiar with Ezra’s Force signature that he could still feel him.

Hopefully the dark side user on the other side of that door wouldn’t figure out Ezra’s strength in the Force, not when they would be drawn to him. With a thought he let his own Force presence leak out in time with Ezra’s diminishing expression in the Force. If he was good enough, whoever was on the other side of that door wouldn’t even notice. There would only be one Force-sensitive between them as far as the darksider would be concerned. Ezra jerked his head at Kanan’s in shock.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping whoever’s behind that door’s attention on me,” he replied smoothly as he pulled the black scythe from his back and extended it to its proper length before giving it a good jerk to lock the blade in place. The metal was hot to the touch, hotter than it usually was as if it knew who it was about to face, and wanted to. Kanan ignored it. “Go. Get back to Proxy. I’ll take care of this.”

“But—!”

Kanan turned his head and glared at the boy, his pressure in the Force relentless. Ezra flinched.

“I said go.”

Ezra’s fists clenched as he looked away, but without another word he stood and took off, his cloak snapping with his speed.

No sooner had Ezra vanished did the door to the conference room hiss open, and a Pau’an man stepped through, a smug smirk on his lips. Dark side malevolence rolled from him in waves, and Kanan gripped his scythe, ready.

It was an Inquisitor. This had been a trap.

“So you must be the infamous Reaper we’ve all heard so much about.” The Inquisitor’s smirk lengthened as his eyes swept around. “I thought you had a partner.”

“I’m solo today,” Kanan replied, giving nothing away.

“That’s a shame,” the Inquisitor sighed as he stepped forward. “I was so hoping to eliminate two problems at the same time. I suppose I’ll have to settle with just you, though I must say I’m quite pleased to do so. A Force user, just as we suspected.”

It sounded like the Empire only expected one of them to be Force-sensitive, so that was good. It would take the target off of Ezra and place it solely on Kanan.

“What do you want?”

Kanan felt the Inquisitor’s eyes on him appraisingly, and Kanan maintained his calm stance, even though he wanted to attack and destroy the massive threat.

Finally, the Inquisitor admitted, “I came here expecting a Jedi, and finding that, I planned to kill you.”

The hair on the back of Kanan’s neck stood on end, and he forced calm into his mind and his body relentlessly.

“Sounds like you’ve changed your mind.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand. It’s still a possibility.” The Inquisitor smiled, toothy and unpleasant. “But I sense the dark side in you.”

The scythe in his hands practically throbbed as if it had been given attention, and Kanan tightened his grip. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor didn’t miss it.

“Quite a bit of it actually. Perhaps I could, instead, entice you with an offer?”

“To join the Empire? Join you in the dark side?” Kanan growled lowly, and that smug smile grew pleased and approving.

“Yes. Exactly that.”

What was this? First the rebellion wanted him to join their cause, and now the Empire? Who was next? Black Sun? The Hutts?

Kanan widened his stance in preparation for what was to come, checking the space around him for ease of motion, and range. Not good. His weapon would be awkward here, but the odds weren’t insurmountable. At the very least, he could give Ezra the time he needed to get out of this trap.

That’s all that mattered now. He’d worry about himself later.

“You know, I’m more the entrepreneurial type,” Kanan admitted as he shifted his posture. “I like to work for myself. So thanks, but no thanks.”

The Inquisitor lifted what would have been an eyebrow, amused.

“I see. That’s a shame. You leave me no choice, then.”

The Inquisitor reached behind him before he withdrew a double-sided red lightsaber, and Kanan’s reflexes were tested as he managed to block the burning lightsaber attack with his scythe just in time. The black metal held, just like it should, and with a shove Kanan knocked the Inquisitor back before sweeping his blade at the Pau’an’s neck. He missed as the darksider back-flipped out of the way, his yellow eyes surprised and intrigued as he eyed Kanan’s weapon.

“Well, that’s fascinating. I must say, I hadn’t expected that.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Kanan muttered, advancing as he built momentum in his scythe with practiced turns of his wrist. “I don’t think you’ll like them.”

He broke into a run and attacked.

* * *

 

Heart racing, breath frantic, and forgotten memories raging like an uncontrollable fire at the front of his mind — memories of blaster fire, blood, loss, and that putrid heat — ensured Ezra was grasping at control with everything he had. He was like a top about to lose his balance, and it didn’t help at all that Kanan was back there, _alone_. His master was back there fighting that dark side creature. An Inquisitor. That was all it could have been.

Kanan was still back there, and Ezra was a mess. A mess of nerves. A mess of memories. A mess of confusion. Panic ripped through him, panic unlike he’d experienced in years, and just like that, he was seven years old, about to lose everything again. Weak. Powerless. His heart pounded painfully and the world tilted. This wasn’t good.

Ezra hated it, but on the verge of a debilitating panic attack he didn’t know what to do. His body wanted to collapse into a useless ball. Kanan wanted him to escape. He wanted to go back. He was lost and confused and he just … he just couldn’t think!

Anger punched through the panic before it could truly disable him. Damn it all, he was the Rider. Kanan was his master, and now that there was a legitimate threat to the most important person in his life, he was a weak little kid again? What about all the years of training? All the practice, all the control? Did it mean nothing now? When Kanan really needed him, was he really going to abandon him and fall apart?

Ezra latched onto that thought with tenacity, and clenched his fists as he beat his panic back through brute force. He needed his mind. He needed to control his emotions so he could use his mind, and the panic was only in the way. He had to work through it, or Kanan might pay the price.

Though there was little time to spare, he forced his body still, ignored the sharp flares of fear arching down his arms and legs, making his fingers tremble, and he breathed. In and out, once, twice, three times. The raging flood of energy in his muscles became less urgent. Age old panic cooled.

In the encroaching calm, Ezra found the edges of his answer, and gratefully pulled it to the fore of his mind.

Kanan had always valued a level of obedience in Ezra and his training, but he’d also told Ezra not to follow something blindly. That he should think for himself and do what was right. That’s what a Jedi did. And the right thing now was to go after his master. He would not abandon Kanan, and he would not let anything happen to him either. Ezra may not have been able to do anything for his parents, but he wasn’t weak anymore. He could help Kanan.

And if it pissed Kanan off, well, so kriffing what?

Resolved, he turned to head back. He needed a plan. It wouldn’t help Kanan if he came in with blaster blazing or lightsaber ignited. He needed something better than that. This was an Inquisitor. His plans needed to be better than better. Anything less wouldn’t work.

But what?

Three blurs crossed his path from another corridor in this labyrinthine floor like an answer to his prayers, and his eyes widened at the flash of pink and orange armor.

That Mandalorian rebel, and her crew.

It didn’t appear that she or the Twi’lek had noticed him, but the Lasat did and he skittered to a halt.

“The Rider!”

A plan formed in Ezra’s mind. The rebels. If he was right, they were here for him and Kanan, and if that Mandalorian had told the truth, then maybe they wouldn’t fight him.

Maybe, if he played his cards right, they might work together. Become allies for the time being.

Taking another breath to urge the pound of his heart into something manageable, he walked toward the Lasat.

Immediately the rifle in his hands rose and green eyes narrowed dangerously. Ezra stilled and slowly lifted his hands. By then the other two had come back and were staring at him.

The Twi’lek, the one in charge, asked, “Where’s the Reaper?”

His hands clenched tightly at the mention of his master, but he breathed through it as he looked up boldly.

“On Kessel you told me that you didn’t want to fight us. That we were on the same side.” Ezra licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “Prove it. Help me, and I will make sure that the Reaper and I both listen to what you have to say.”

It was exactly what they wanted, and to save Kanan he was willing to make any deal he needed to.

He could feel the cautious suspicion radiate from them like a cold breeze, but the Twi’lek’s eyes hardened.

“All right. What can we do?”

“I need your help providing a distraction,” he replied, relief a tiny balm to the weight of stress on his shoulders. “I think he’s fighting an Inquisitor.”

“The Red Blade?” the Lasat gaped in disbelief. “She already caught up?”

Ezra’s brow furrowed. They already knew?

“I don’t know, but there was one waiting for us here.”

“Not good,” the Twi’lek muttered as she drew closer. “Where is he?”

There was something in her green eyes that was firm and resilient. Certain. Ezra found he was relieved to see it. He turned, dashing off with a quick, “This way,” over his shoulder. The rebels followed, and though he felt some uncertainty from at least two of them in the Force, it was overwhelmed by the desire to help.

They rounded the last corner, and Ezra was horrified to see that he’d been right.

Kanan was fighting an Inquisitor.

It was difficult and awe-inspiring to watch. They moved together as if to dance with each other, in deadly flashing red and lethal black. It was almost a blur, but his eyes kept up, transfixed.

Ezra had watched Kanan move and fight for almost nine years, and he knew how difficult an opponent he was. Getting the upper hand on Kanan wasn’t easy. The Force spoke to him, as if eager to lend him aid. But he’d never seen Kanan fight another Force user — beside himself — before.

This was something else, and his eyes tracked and labeled moves and forms with academic detachment. Form four. Form three. Form four. Force push. Form two smoothly into form seven. Whoa! A spinning red lightsaber? Ezra’s didn’t even do that.

But Kanan was at a disadvantage. The scythe wasn’t meant for close quarters combat. It was the weapon of execution, the Reaper’s symbol. It wasn’t meant to handle combat like this, though Kanan was managing somehow. But he didn’t know how long his master would last.

Ezra needed to do something.

What Ezra really wanted to do was expose himself as a Force user and help his master that way. Two were better odds than one, but Ezra had a small team with him to help, and there was no need to expose himself as a Force user yet. Kanan always encouraged him to exhaust other alternatives before exposing himself with his Force skills. He needed to try the rebels first, even if his body burned to ignite his lightsaber and join the battle.

He drew his blaster and took careful aim.

“Move, Reaper!”

Though surprise swelled sharp from his master, Kanan did what Ezra told him, mostly he suspected out of reflex from the years of their partnership. But it gave him the opening he needed, and with steady aim he shot at the Inquisitor. The Imperial blocked the blaster fire like Ezra had expected him to, but he hadn’t been the only one shooting. To either side of him, the rebels were helping provide the cover fire Kanan needed to get away.

The Inquisitor snarled at the interference as his attention split between Ezra’s group and Kanan, and that split gave his master all the opening he needed. Even from where Ezra stood on the sidelines, he saw the Inquisitor’s yellow eyes widen and flash before a great wave in the Force slammed into him like a battering ram and sent him flying back into the conference room.

Ezra and his small impromptu army stopped firing. He looked at his master with urgency that raced through his blood like cold lightning.

“Come on!”

Ezra saw the pull in Kanan’s body as his attention lingered on the Inquisitor. Kanan wanted to keep fighting and Ezra’s stomach bottomed out when the Force aura surrounding Kanan wobbled and wavered, darkened. Kanan took a step toward the Inquisitor and that cold lightning raced through Ezra violently.

“Reaper, come on!”

His master stilled at Ezra’s voice, and that awful wobble in his aura settled back to normal. Kanan turned and ran toward them, waving a hand violently.

“Go! He won’t stay down long.”

They burst into a sprint down the hall and Kanan appeared at the corner of Ezra’s vision. Not for the first time was he glad for his master’s stupid mask. He wouldn’t have to see the snarl on Kanan’s face he just knew waited for him.

“I told you to go!” Kanan roared into the comm, but it was loud enough to be heard in the open air, even as they all ran in an uncomfortable gaggle.

“I wasn’t going to leave you with an Inquisitor!”

“It was handled!”

“Will you two stop arguing?” the Mandalorian yelled before she threw an explosive behind them. Ezra chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the tall Inquisitor dressed in black and edged in red light flanked by stormtroopers. The Inquisitor lifted a hand.

The explosive stopped in midair and changed directions. It was flying fast toward them.

“Take cover!”

Ezra threw himself to the side, knocking the nearest person, the Lasat, into a side hall. They rolled and tumbled, and Ezra saw the silhouette of the Mandalorian crouch close to the wall as the explosive detonated with air cracking resonance. The world shook, and the walls began to crack and blister. The air filled with smoke, and the shock of everything that had happened in the last ten minutes broke his connection to the Force.

He couldn’t see Kanan. He couldn’t feel Kanan in the Force through that tiny, constant but reassuring connection they had, and the Inquisitor was so close and intent on his master. Ezra panicked.

“Reaper!”

* * *

 

Kanan uncurled from around Hera, his back still hot from the resonating heat of the bomb, but he didn’t feel injured. She didn’t feel injured. No shrapnel and no heat damage. They were fine. Hera lifted her head, blaster raised and ready for any Imperials who might come into view, and quickly Kanan expanded his Force sense and was relieved to find Ezra alive in the hallway across from them, along with the Mandalorian and the Lasat.

Thank the Force. They’d made it to the safety of a branching hallway, like he and Hera had.

The heat of the Inquisitor rolled out toward them, along with thick volleys of blaster fire, and Kanan gritted his teeth. They needed to do something. They needed to do something fast. He needed to find a way to get Ezra out of here.

“Shade-3, Shade-4! Are you all right?”

“We’re alive,” the Mandalorian’s voice pulled through Hera’s comms. “The Rider is too.”

Hera’s voice was tight. “The  _Ghost_  is closer to you. Get out!”

“But Shade-1—!”

“Rider, go with them.” Kanan’s voice was just as tight, and Hera shot him a look of surprise, one which he ignored. “Get out!”

“But Reaper—!”

The smoke was starting to clear and he saw that the three in the other hall were all looking at him and Hera as if they’d lost their mind. Kanan gritted his teeth. Though he wanted Ezra with him, now wasn’t the time. This was about survival. There were Inquisitors here and they couldn’t know about Ezra. They needed to slit up, and Kanan needed to lead them away.

With the Force Kanan roughly shoved the boy in the direction of the rebels he was with as he yelled, “That’s an order!”

Kanan’s breath caught because both he and Hera had shouted the command at the same time, their order a strange, unified front that surprised everyone. But it was enough. The Lasat latched onto Ezra’s arm and hauled him to his feet, and though Ezra shook him off, he finally complied. Then he, the Mandalorian, and the Lasat vanished down the hall. Kanan turned away to the Twi’lek he was now stuck with.

“You got a plan?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then come on.”

“Where are we going?” Hera demanded. “Do you have a way out?”

“If I have to, I’ll make one,” Kanan muttered lowly, forcing his attention to razor sharp focus. He couldn’t let his actions be dictated by his emotions and his overwhelming agitation with the current situation. Kanan took hold of Hera’s arm and began to drag her after him.

Sideways. Everything was going sideways.

“Not that way!” Hera said quickly, yanking at him and almost succeeding in pulling out of his grasp. “The lift’s down! My crew destroyed it to slow the Red Blade below down.”

“Of course.” Anger flickered to life in his heart, finally pushed to a limit he hadn’t realized he’d drawn near, and the scythe in his hand grew hotter in response. Hungry. Even though they moved rapidly, Kanan could feel a small wave of heat radiate from the weapon, and the feel of it made him grit his teeth.

Forcing his emotions back under his control, if only by a very fine line, he flared his Force sense like a sound wave and instantly saw the layout of the floor.

He found what he was looking for and quickly detoured toward the nearest window.

“This way!” he told Hera before he yelled “Proxy!” in the comm. He continued to yank Hera after him, and was at least content that he wasn’t so much yanking anymore as moving with her, given that she’d found her own legs and moved only half a step behind him, keeping up. “North side, one hundred seventy-ninth floor. We’re coming out hot now!”

“But Reaper—!” Proxy replied frantically even as Kanan heard the thrusters of the  _Kasmiri_  roar in the background.

“No buts! Now!”

“Kanan!”

Hera must have realized what Kanan’s plan was and did not agree with it because she was starting to slow down, eyes wide on the window in front of them. “We’re too high up! Not even you can survive a fall like that!”

Kanan didn’t have time for this! With a deft flick of his wrist, the scythe collapsed down and he slung the metal contraption onto his back where it locked into place in its holster. With a heave he swept the shocked Twi’lek woman up onto his shoulder and kept running. She yelled at him, and struggled, but he held onto her tight as his muscles burned with the effort and the burden. Faster. He needed to go faster. The Inquisitor was just behind him, and—

The sound of blaster fire almost made him miss a step, and it was a struggle to keep going and not take cover. But after a moment he realized that the blaster fire wasn’t aimed at them, not yet at least. Hera had stopped struggling and was firing over his shoulder as he ran, providing cover fire from the stormtroopers and the Inquisitor, who managed to deflect a few of her bolts back at them with uncomfortable closeness.

“You better have a plan!” Hera grunted at him through clenched teeth as she kept firing. “If we die, I’ll kill you!”

“We’re not going to die!” Kanan yelled back. “Just keep up the cover fire and trust me.”

“I don’t have much of a choice—!” The Twi’lek woman’s words were lost in the desperate cacophony of glass shattering at the pressure of Kanan’s Force push. With as much power as he and the Force could muster, he leapt into the open air, as high and far as he could.

“Proxy!” Kanan roared into the comm of his helmet as gravity sank into his and Hera’s bodies, pulling them into freefall. On his shoulder Hera was still firing behind them at the Inquisitor, and he clung tightly to keep her stable as he searched for the ship. Where was that droid?

“Below you!” Proxy’s voice broke in, and moving swiftly between the buildings towering around them, the  _Kasmiri_  was closing in tens of feet below. The hatch top was open, and if it had been him and Ezra, he’d have had little trouble threading the needle. But with Hera?

He’d just have to get close.

“Hold on!”

Hera’s lekku streamed behind him over their shoulders and she only spared one hand to cling to him as she kept her blaster aimed and shooting. She hadn’t yelled or screamed once in their fall, and with that small part of his mind which cared enough to notice, he was impressed. It was that same part he tried to ignore that wanted to observe her face clearly, to see the fierce focus there as they fell together through the air. That part of him was enthralled. Mesmerized by her.

With a strange, unwanted blossom of pleasure, he realized that she trusted him. They might be falling to their deaths for all she knew, and he’d asked her to trust him anyway. And she had. Even after all this time. Even knowing his reputation and the things he knew she must know he’d done. She trusted him.

It didn’t escape that persistent and enthralled part of him that as much as she was trusting him, he was trusting her too, to protect his back.

 _Foolish_ , Kanan mentally berated.  _Nothing but a pair of fools_.

And yet, even knowing that, he was still clinging to her as firmly as he could as he prepared to pull off a pretty reckless plan, one she trusted him to complete.

Using the Force, he aligned them with the hatch. The  _Kasmiri_  screamed, just moments away, and he reached out a hand. This had to be perfect. If not, they would fall to their deaths, and Hera was right. There would be very little he in all of his Force skill would be able to do to stop that.

But he hadn’t missed before. He wasn’t going to start now.

With perfect timing, his fingers latched onto the ledge of the hatch, and he groaned in pain when his body slammed against the metal shell of his ship. His muscles screamed with the effort of holding onto both the ship and Hera.

“Get inside!” Kanan yelled to Hera, and he was relieved that she was already moving, her upper body in the opening. With a shove he inelegantly pushed the rest of her in before he focused and used the Force to help propel himself in as well, yanking the hatch shut and locked after him. Hera was already climbing to her feet.

“How did you—?” Hera breathed, but her words were cut off when the ship jolted and shuddered, causing her to stumble as he did, and they fell together in a heap. Involuntarily he caught and cushioned her fall with his body, ignoring the bite of his collapsed scythe into his spine. He shoved the Twi’lek off of him before turning to the droid.

“Proxy!”

“Three Imperial TIE fighters, Kanan,” the droid replied with an edge of stress in his voice. “More are on the way.”

“Just get us out of here!”

The droid spared a glance behind him and stilled with shock.

“Where’s—?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kanan said quickly, cutting the droid off. “Just go, Prox!”

He tried to stand again but was forced down by another barrage of blaster fire. An alarm wailed. Proxy shouted, “They’ve just damaged the hyperdrive!”

“Damn it!” cursed Kanan as he rapidly thought. New plan. Today was a day for new plans, it seemed. He dashed for the rear turret and slung himself into the seat, firing furiously.

“Prox, get the hyperdrive back up!” he told the droid as he maneuvered the turret to take out a TIE, and was at least pleased something was working right when the blast struck the Imperial fighter and it exploded. “Hera—!”

“Already on it!” the Twi’lek yelled up to him, and his stomach almost gave out as she banked sharply to avoid bolts aimed at their shields and thrusters. Kanan felt airborne again when she sent the  _Kasmiri_  into a short nose-dive, which made Kanan’s heart tremble more than almost anything else had today.

“I didn’t think I needed to say this, but try not to kill us!”

The locking mechanism alerted him that he had a clean shot on the second TIE, and though it only clipped the fighter, it sent it whirling chaotically to the ground. It only just missed clipping the third TIE.

“How are we on that hyperdrive?” Hera demanded, ignoring Kanan completely as she deftly maneuvered the  _Kasmiri_  around tight corners and past obstacles Kanan had to admit he couldn’t have done better.

Hera still had that incredible flight talent. As a matter of fact, it had only gotten better.

Instead of telling her off for ordering his droid around like she had every right to, his attention was snagged by the presence of the third TIE which had caught up. He tried to shoot at it, but the turret gun didn’t have the range of motion needed to quite reach, and he yelled, “I need a better angle!”

The TIE got a few good shots in, and alarms began to blare around them, frantic. He could see in the Force a trail of smoke streaming from his ship.

“Hera!”

The  _Kasmiri_  bucked and he got the exact angle he needed, and a moment later the TIE exploded. He breathed tightly, waiting for the next thing to come up because he just  _knew_  it was a matter of time.

“I believe I’ve fixed the hyperdrive!” Proxy exploded with mechanical excitement, and the  _Kasmiri_  began to climb, making a clear bid for space.

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” Hera said, and now that the threats behind them were gone for the moment, Kanan leapt from his seat at the turret to take the copilot’s chair. Checking the scanners, he saw that the threat now was in front of them in the form of a growing Imperial blockade. Some distance away, he felt in the Force another ship, a small freighter, making for space as well before it flickered into hyperspace.

Ezra’s Force presence vanished with it, and though Kanan was still in the mess, a tense part of him relaxed. Ezra had made it out. He’d gotten away.

Relief rolled off of Hera, and he sensed that she’d seen the ship make the jump too, and knew that her crew had made it away safely too.

It was just them left, now.

“Can you get us past that?”

“We’re about to find out. Your ship handles well though.” Kanan would have liked something a little better than that, but his attention was drawn to the Force presence gaining on them. One of the Inquisitors was closing in.

“Make it quick, Hera!”

The  _Kasmiri_  lurched with speed, and Kanan gripped the copilot’s controls and helped in whatever way he could. But he might as well have been holding on for dear life because Hera  _flew_.

And it was breathtaking. Hera commanded the  _Kasmiri_  as if she’d been flying this ship her entire life, compensating for all of his ship’s little problems, anticipating them so smoothly they might not have been there at all. The _Kasmiri_  practically purred for her after five minutes of flying when it had taken Kanan a solid year.

 _Still like a symphony_ , he found himself thinking as they slipped past the blockade.

“Where are we going, Kanan?”

Her swift demand pulled him back into the present, and with deft fingers he set the course.

“Ready when you are.”

“Making the jump now!”

Around him his Force sense changed and hyperspace bled like a welcome into his perception. Simultaneously he and Hera both wilted in their seats as if they’d just run a marathon at a sprint. Letting his head drop back now that they were in the safety of hyperspace, he closed his eyes and breathed in deep, calming breaths through his nose.

His apprentice had been right. This mission had been all levels of hellish, and not only did he not know where Ezra was right now, he was stuck with the one person in the galaxy he hadn’t wanted to see again.

Kriffing damn it.

* * *

 

Kanan had taken the controls for the ship from Hera not long after the light of hyperspace settled around them with its comforting glow. It had been a hard thing to give up. She was a pilot, and he damn well knew it, especially after that mess they’d just left behind. But it was his ship and he knew where they were going.

All things considered? It could have been worse. He hadn’t tied her up and he hadn’t locked her away either. But he hadn’t said a word to her past taking control of the ship. Frankly, it became exceedingly clear that he was doing what he could to ignore her, even though she sat right next to him in the copilot’s seat. He hadn’t even looked in her direction.

And he hadn’t taken that damned mask off either.

Behind them Proxy cleaned up and fixed what damage the ship had endured that he could. Once he’d finished, the strange droid had surprised her with a very polite, and even friendly offer of food and drink. Hera had flicked her eyes to where Kanan sat like a statue, waiting to see … well, anything. But he stayed right where he was. She and the droid might not have been there at all.

She asked for water, and Proxy appeared pleased to accomplish the task.

Silence fell again within the ship not long after that, and Hera tried not to let her thoughts spin and whirl. They’d gotten away. They’d all gotten away. She’d seen the  _Ghost_  make the jump, but to where? She wasn’t entirely sure. Sabine was in charge, so they would probably head to the checkpoint. Their protocol following any member’s separation from the  _Ghost_  was to rendezvous at the checkpoint in a week’s time. But there was a new factor she couldn’t anticipate right now in the Rider, and what effect he’d have on the rest of her crew, she didn’t know. She trusted her crew, but she didn’t know what he was capable of, nor the protocol he had with Kanan should they get separated.

But the Rider had asked for their help, and Kanan had told him to go with her crew. Hopefully they’d be able to cooperate.

Hopefully better than she and Kanan were right now.

Since escaping the Imperial trap on Garel, she’d been quietly amazed at their teamwork. It was a hurried thing, sure, but the trust they’d had in each other to do that thing they did best had been seamless. It was a level of teamwork that, in a way, had been breathtaking, like a well-aged wine. Five years gone, and they operated like a well-oiled machine.

But now that they weren’t under the pressing threat of death … the thing that sat between them could only be described as awkward. They weren’t pilot and fighter anymore, but old acquaintances who hadn’t left on the best of terms. Kanan sat less than a couple of feet away, and she grudgingly admitted to herself that she had no idea how to proceed. She only remembered him on Gorse, and even then he’d been confusing. What did she do, now that she was here? How did she proceed?

Questions were generally a good way of going about it. She’d start with something innocuous, and see where things went from there.

“Where are we going?”

She hadn’t actually expected a response, but he replied in a clipped tone, “Away from those Inquisitors.”

Not the nicest tone, but it was still an opening, and she took it.

“They’re hunting you?”

“Is anyone on your crew Force-sensitive?” Kanan’s question was calm and stoic, inquiring, and she relaxed her shoulders. That response was better, at least. Not clipped like a blaster bolt.

“No.”

Kanan turned his masked face toward her, the avian design glinting and gleaming in the blue-white glow of lightspeed.

“Then what do you think?”

Hera’s lips thinned at the snide, almost sharp tone he’d used, and she reconsidered her earlier assessment. He was the only Force user, so yes, it was only logical that the Inquisitors hunted him, but she hadn’t deserved the mood.

“I think you didn’t know you were being hunted,” she replied boldly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up. The information was designed to draw you out, and you fell for it. And you know it.”

Hera waited for any change in Kanan’s body language, but there was nothing. He was unreadable. She wished that he’d take off that mask so she might have a shot at gleaning something from his eyes. It was like a barrier she couldn’t get past, and it unnerved her.

When he finally moved, it was only to face forward again, and the silence returned with a vengeance, cold and empty like the void of space.

Well, all things considered, that could have gone worse too.

Not long after, a light flickered on the console indicating that they would be pulling out of hyperspace soon, and Hera blinked when a scrap of fabric suddenly appeared in her lap. Curious and unsure, she glanced at Kanan before picking it up.

It was a blindfold.

“Put that on.”

Hera eyed the blindfold. She couldn’t say she was all that surprised. If she’d been in his position, she would have blindfolded Kanan too if it meant keeping a secret location secret. That didn’t mean that she was all right with it.

This Kanan … she just didn’t know. On one hand, she wanted to trust her memories of him, but with him here, like this, she just didn’t know. This was Kanan, but this was also the Reaper. If she put this blindfold on, was she blinding herself to the possibility of that dreadful scythe being buried in her back too? He’d saved her, but what if he’d changed his mind about that?

She didn’t know.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Kanan said, as if sensing the root nature of her hesitance. “Just don’t want you to see where we’re going. Also, give me your comm and your blaster.”

“Now I know you’re going to kill me,” Hera muttered, but she decided to take a chance and trust him. Even though there was something different about him, there was something there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that still rang true. He had saved her, after all, back on Garel, and he hadn’t needed to. Against her better judgment she slipped the blindfold over her eyes, pulled off her glove, and drew her blaster from its holster. They were pulled from her grasp and she was left in the purgatory of darkness, waiting. “What? No shackles?”

A soft, amused chuckle filled the air, surprising her. “I can arrange it, if you really want them. I won’t judge. Just thought you’d prefer your hands free, but if that’s what you’re into—”

“Oh, shut up,” Hera responded, thrown by the playful comment when a moment ago he’d been so cold. It was exactly what the Kanan of Gorse would have said, and in the darkness she could almost imagine he was that smug gunslinger. Almost. Still, two could play this game. “If you ever got that lucky, I wouldn’t be the one wearing the cuffs.”

Stunned silence filled the cockpit before Kanan chuckled again, soft but real. “Touché.”

Hera smirked. She wasn’t sure if she was a prisoner or not, but she was not going to be cowed. She could take whatever he had to dish out and turn it back on him.

“So, what were you and your crew doing on Garel?” Kanan asked, and from behind the blindfold, Hera rolled her eyes. Of course. Now he wanted to talk.

“We figured you might show up there, and if you did, we were going to try to convince you to meet with us.”

“About your offer to join the rebellion?”

So he did know. His partner must have told him what Sabine had said.

“Yes.”

Kanan chuckled, and it was familiar and strangely nostalgic. An echo of the past.

“Persistent. Guess that hasn’t change.”

“Never, luv,” Hera responded easily, valuing this more relaxed mood of his. If she could, she wanted to keep him that way. “It’s how work gets done.”

“Fair enough.”

The ship shifted in a way that, even blind, Hera knew indicated they’d dropped out of hyperspace. She heard buttons depressed, and switches flicked before the ship began to move under Kanan’s direction. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t alert his arrival to anyone, but was surprised by the short flight of decent, and the silence which surrounded it. Soon she heard the thrusters scream in an effort to slow them before he landed, nice and smooth.

“Prox, go ahead. I’ll take care of our … guest.”

“Is there anything you need me too …?”

The droid’s voice trailed off, and Hera wondered what Proxy was trying to ask Kanan, what he was trying to keep secret, but she got no hint when all Kanan replied with was a clean, “No.”

Proxy left and Kanan pulled her from the copilot’s seat to lead her by her shoulder to the ramp, and out. A cold breeze swept over her exposed skin, and she shivered. It was cold, here. Colder than cold. Not exactly arctic, but chilly enough to make her wish for a coat.

“I wouldn’t try to run, if I were you,” Kanan said quietly, his hand still on her shoulder, guiding her. “There’s nothing for miles.”

“Why would I leave? I’m in this situation because I wanted to talk to you.”

She didn’t have to see to know she’d won that point.

With careful pressure, Kanan lead her forward. They entered a tunnel of some sort, and their footsteps echoed down the way, disrupting the quiet. Hera wondered what would happen next. What would Kanan do? Would he lock her away now? Or would he finally let her speak?

The echo of their footsteps softened, and the air, wherever they were now, felt distinctly warmer than outside. Kanan’s hand stopped her before slipping off.

“The lights, Proxy.” Hera heard the droid walk away, and soon after, Kanan spoke again. “You can take off that blindfold.”

Now that was surprising, but she wasn’t going to say anything about it. She pulled it off, and blinked several times to adjust her eyes.

Hera sucked in a sharp breath when her eyes finally began to work properly.

They were underground somewhere, that much she’d figured out, but she hadn’t expected the utterly massive cavern she’d been lead into. This space alone could easily fit the  _Ghost_  two or three times over. It was an ancient place, she could tell that much by the ornate architecture and careful designs, but it contrasted with the flashes of modern tech littering the tables and lining the walls. On one wall a monitoring system was installed, one which Proxy was already checking and settling into. Not far from there was a small makeshift kitchen. In the far wall of the cavern was a doorway. A significant amount of the floor space, she was surprised to see, was empty.

“What is this place?” Hera asked, her voice splitting the quiet in a way that was eerie as Kanan stopped by one of the long tables. The sound of her smooth alto almost seemed to hang in the air as if intent on lingering for all time.

“Ruins,” Kanan stoically replied as he dropped his equipment on the table and began pulling off the bigger pieces of his armor. “A place for the dead.”

Hera eyed the man. It seemed playful, agreeable Kanan was gone again now that the blindfold was off.

Hera wasn’t at all surprised that his response revealed just about nothing, but that was all right, for now. She’d figure it out. Suspicions were already queuing in her mind, but she pushed them back and kept her eyes on Kanan as he continued to strip, as if oblivious of her presence. Piece by piece the armor came off, and soon he was left standing with his back to her in nothing more than simple black pants, tunic, boots, and that sleek, black avian mask.

Hera held her breath as she watched him reach for that final piece, and pull it off of his head. Brown hair spilled out, crimped and messy as helmet hair often was, and he ran a hand through it before gathering it all up into a ponytail, tying it back.

 _Face me, damn you_ , Hera found herself thinking as loudly as she could. Although she’d known this was Kanan the whole time, there had been a part of her which doubted. She wanted to see his face and  _know_ it was him. Since she’d begun this mission, that mask had been a barrier between her and Kanan which she’d hated, and now that it was off, she was anxious.

Kanan. She was finally going to see Kanan.

“You know, I can feel your curiosity all the way from here. That anxious to see my pretty face again, darling?” There was something dark and amused in his voice, teasing, as if he were holding onto a humorous secret. This wasn’t the playful Kanan from earlier, but someone darker. Hera narrowed her eyes.

“Show it to me, luv, and see how anxious I am for yourself.”

The roll of an amused chuckle slipped into the air around them as he tipped his head back a little. Then he finally turned to face her, and a deeply amused smirk rested on his lips.

“Like what you see? Pretty as you remember?”

Hera felt as if the air in the room had been sucked out in that one moment as she looked at him, her heart falling out of her chest in shock. His face looked exactly the same as it had five years ago. Same smirk, same jawline, same thick eyebrows, maybe a little more beard. But those odd blue eyes she’d been expecting ….

Kanan looked back at her, his face daring, dark, and smug. But instead of unblemished, uninterrupted tan skin, a long, aged scar drew across Kanan’s face as if someone had drawn a line over his eyes, and an unfocused, milky gaze held hers viciously.

Kanan … he was blind.

Disbelief destroyed her professional control as concern welled up within her like a geyser, and before she could stop herself, she gasped, “Kanan, what happened?”

It was a rude question and she knew it, but it was already out and she wasn’t taking it back. For the last five years she’d held his face in her mind, all cocky smirk and strange blue eyes. She’d been looking for a blue-eyed man because he’d had blue eyes. He wasn’t blind. What had happened?

She half-expected Kanan to ask her for clarification. It was a vague and poorly worded question, and this Kanan seemed the type to give her the runaround. She expected it enough to open her mouth to clarify what she meant, but the words died in her throat when those blind eyes looked at her with knowing, though that was impossible.

Hera’s heart stilled in preparation for whatever it was that Kanan would tell her. She hadn’t expected what he finally said with that dark smirk still gracing his lips.

“Nothing happened.”

And with that he turned and left her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I’ve been waiting over a month to let that cat out of the bag. So yes! The Kanan in this story is absolutely blind. This sprang out of that awful moment in season two’s finale (you know the one), and I just couldn't put it down, and then it blew up. So yes. Blind Kanan.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A lot happened and I'd love to know what you thought! Sorry about missing last weeks update, but that real life thing happened. This chapter is pretty long in comparison to the others so I hope that kind of makes up for it. Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has left a review! Your curiosity and kind words drive me :]
> 
> Now, who wants to know how all of this started for Kanan? Hint: we might find out in the next chapter.


	6. Origins - Caleb Dume

Caleb Dume was in pain. More pain than he’d ever felt in his life. More pain than he thought anyone could ever experience in their life, and still somehow live. It was maddening. Disorienting. There wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t burn or scream with agony, and the pain didn’t let up. As a matter of fact, it only grew worse the longer his consciousness insisted on torturing him with awareness. It was almost cruel.

Lying broken and in the dirt, Caleb wished his consciousness would end. He wished his body would just give up already, because the sooner it did, the sooner the pain ended and the sooner he could follow his master into the Force. The persistent agony which ruled his life right now would finally be over.

Commander Grey, Captain Styles, and the rest of the clones in his and Master Billaba’s command had betrayed them, and it had happened with the swiftness and brutality of a lightning strike. He hadn’t seen it coming. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the clones were capable of betrayal. But he’d been wrong. Distracted by Master Billaba’s trust, and the holocron she’d given him, he’d been too preoccupied to notice the deadly shift in tides. If it hadn’t been for his master, he’d have died instantly, none the wiser to what had taken place. As it was, it had only been his master’s firm voice which had alerted him of their new, horrible reality, preparing him for the fight to come.

The fight had been brutal. Friends and comrades attacked and fell at his and his master’s blades as volleys of blaster fire were launched. He could still feel the heat of those first bolts flying past him with growing frequency, and when the chance for escape grew thin, his master told him to run.

But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Caleb would not abandon her.

He’d stayed faithfully by Master Billaba’s side as their former company of clones attacked and attacked. Their Soresu forms had held, for the time being, but he knew they were both tiring. Still, he hadn’t wanted to leave. If they couldn’t escape together, then he was willing to die there beside her.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t been his choice to make.

“Run, Caleb!” Master Billaba had ordered, and though he would not leave her, she’d Force pushed him and sent him flying into the forest. “Run and survive!”

With his master’s voice still ringing in his ears, he froze as he felt her life energy slip away in a sharp flair of pain, and then … nothing. She’d died. She’d given up her life to save his.

When he could move again, he didn’t turn back like his heart ached to. He ran.

Not long after, blaster fire had found him again, a lot of it. This time, though he’d managed to deflect most of the bolts away, killing many of the clones who had followed him as he fled, Captain Styles had eventually caught up with him. Outmaneuvered him. Caleb found himself beaten and immobile, unable to do anything except be lifted roughly by his hair as the brilliant green of Master Billaba’s lightsaber became the last thing he ever saw. The captain used it to mercilessly strike out his eyes.

Caleb had never experienced such pain before in his life. The scream which had ripped from his throat was broken and beaten, and he waited almost eagerly for the killing blow. He was done. Shame ate at his heart for not having completed Master Billaba’s final order, but there was nothing he could do to stop the end. All that was left was to die.

He’d gone limp from the pain, simply waiting for Captain Styles to get it over with, but the end never came. Instead he heard his master’s lightsaber click off before it thumped to the ground beside him, useless and unwanted in the new, thick darkness of Caleb’s world.

“I hope you die slow, you filthy traitor,” Styles whispered viciously into his ear as pain careened through Caleb. The clone slammed the Padawan into the dirt, kicked him for good measure, and left him to bleed and die and rot in the forests of Kaller, alone and forgotten.

But he hadn’t died. At least, not yet he hadn’t. It seemed that Captain Styles had unwittingly shown Caleb the greatest kindness when he had simply blinded him and left him to die, instead of ensuring a proper kill. Despite the extensive blaster fire and blindness, despite the weakness of his muscles and the pain, he was still alive.

And with the clones gone now, he still had a chance at completing his master’s final order. To run. To survive. All he had to do was get up.

Gasping with the pain, he managed to find a bit of quick clot tucked in the ruins of his robes before shoving it into the places he suspected he was bleeding from worst. With every ounce of strength he had left, he pushed himself up, fumbled for his master’s lightsaber and, blind and in pain, he began to move.

Caleb didn’t know where he was going. Everything was the same in the dark, black, terrifying blindness, but he wasn’t alone. The Force was there, and with nothing else to depend on, nothing else to trust, he trusted it. Desperation drove him as he threw himself open to it, to whatever aid it might give him, no matter how small, and he hoped. Hoped for a way to survive. Hoped for a way to save his life, the life Master Billaba had bought and paid for with her own. Caleb hoped.

And to Caleb’s astonishment, it seemed that the Force heard. His dark world, the sudden, painful, impenetrable black blindness … it lifted.

It was hard for him to really pin down the way in which it lifted. Everything was still dark as far as his eyes could see, but not in his mind. Through his mind, through the Force, he could … see, he guessed. He knew where the trees around him were. He knew with some fuzzy certainty where was safest to place his foot next. Through his mind he could see some of the world around him, shifting in and out of focus as if he were trying to peer at it through a scope that kept slipping out of focus, but it was something. It was sight. A Force sight.

And he found that through this new sight, the Force was leading him somewhere, pulling him, guiding him, urging him to trust it. He didn’t know where it was trying to take him, or even what any of this meant, but in his mind all he could hear was Master Billaba’s final shout, followed by memories of calmer times, quiet times when she’d encourage him to have faith in the Force.

So Caleb did.

He didn’t trip, and so long as he was careful any stumble he suffered was from pain, and not because he couldn’t see. The process was slow and agonizing, and he knew his wounds were getting worse. He needed to find help somewhere, and soon, or this new sight wouldn’t mean a thing. Caleb kept putting one foot in front of the other. It was all he could do.

Sudden fear coupled with the pain caused Caleb to topple to the ground when he realized that before him, some distance away, was someone. That someone had appeared within the small range of his sight in the Force with an abruptness which startled him.

At first he thought it was a clone, but as he examined the person again in the Force, it didn’t feel like a clone. It was much taller, denser, more strangely shaped, and even through the thickening haze of pain he realized it was a Kalleran. For an instant, Caleb hoped the Kalleran hadn’t seen him, would just avoid him. But the Kalleran must have seen him long before Caleb had even been aware of the alien. Through the Force he knew the alien was moving, and it was moving toward him.

The Kalleran found him a moment later, his blaster trained on Caleb’s dying body where it lay in a collapsed, broken heap.

“You’re … you’re the baby Jedi,” the Kalleran muttered, a male, and even in the endless pain, Caleb was sure he’d heard this voice before. Was it … was it that one Kalleran who’d insulted his master? “Those are blaster marks from clone rifles.” The way the Kalleran said that was suspicious, cautious, but there was something in his voice which caught Caleb’s attention. Something … concerned.

Hope rose like a second wind in the Padawan. Was this why the Force had pulled him here? To this Kalleran? Would … would he help him?

“Help … clones betrayed—!” Caleb gasped as pain raced through him in a mind-shattering wave, making the strange Force world he saw in his mind spin on its axis. He groaned, “Please.”

“Why should I help you? You look like you’re going to die any second now. Besides, what if the clones come back to finish the job? It’ll be a waste of both of our time.” He heard the Kalleran holster his blaster and turn to leave, but in desperation Caleb found the strength to swing his hand forward to weakly catch the Kalleran’s ankle.

“Please,” he begged, almost choking on the blood in his mouth. “They killed … her. Please.”

If the Kalleran didn’t do something, Caleb was going to die here. And though Caleb had no reason to trust this man, nor the man to trust him, the Force had lead him here. To this Kalleran. So he tried because he trusted the Force. He had to.

Silence filled the air as the Kalleran thought, and Caleb’s hold on the Force wavered, causing his Force sight to waver. But he didn’t pay attention to it. He just continued to focus on the Kalleran, and hope and pray. A pained sound came out of him and he shuddered, coughing up more blood as cold weakness sank into his limbs. He didn’t have long. He knew it. He could feel it.

And he suspected the Kalleran knew it too.

“Damn it. Damn it all.” The alien’s voice was in low and harsh with agitation, and Caleb couldn’t help the pained whimper which slipped from his throat as hands carefully picked him up off the musty forest floor. “Bleeding heart, I swear. This is just stupid. It would be easier for me if I just let you die.” The Kalleran shifted Caleb in his arms, covering him with a fabric — the tattered remains of Caleb’s Jedi robe — before moving. “I swear, if you live through this, kid, you owe me big.”

“Sabers …” Caleb gasped, the effort it took almost knocking him out. “Holo—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got your Jedi toys,” the alien man scoffed. “Now shut up or pass out. I know which I’d pick if I were you.”

Caleb knew which he desired more as well, and yet he clung to consciousness desperately. Now that he might have a chance at life, he didn’t want to let consciousness go yet, and though the Kalleran had agreed to help, he was still weary. What if this man betrayed him? What if he handed him over to Grey or Styles? It didn’t matter right now that the Force was telling him this man meant him no harm, Caleb just didn’t feel comfortable enough to let his guard down so soon, after everything that had happened. Until this man proved himself, Caleb was loath to risk it. At least if he was still conscious, he’d be able to use the Force to do something, to save his life somehow. Maybe.

The lie made him feel more in control, so he believed it whole-heartedly.

“Where …?” Caleb whispered, and the man sighed heavily.

“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep pushing like that,” his savior said with clear reluctance. “I’m taking you to Plateau City. I know a street doc who’s unaffiliated with either the Republic or the Separatists, one that you clearly need. That’s where I’m taking you. If you’re lucky she’ll be able to fix you up. Otherwise, nothing left to do except keel over.”

The Kalleran’s bedside manner needed work, but Caleb appreciated the brutal honesty. After the clone’s betrayal, the harsh sting of truth was more welcome than the soft touch of a well-meaning lie, and the honesty was a small point in the Kalleran’s favor.

“If we’re lucky, those clones think you’re as dead as your master,” the Kalleran grunted as he placed Caleb in the narrow cargo hold of a speeder and he watched as the tall Kalleran straightened to look at his prone, mangled body. “You look like you should be.”

Caleb groaned pathetically as pain ravaged him. He choked and his body involuntarily heaved, making it all worse, shattering his concentration. But just as quickly as it had come, the pain receded. Caleb shakily reestablished his connection to the Force, his senses flaring with harsh life and sensitivity again, and he realized that the Kalleran had injected him with a fast-acting painkiller. Caleb’s body slowly relaxed, and his heart didn’t pound as hard once the momentary relief settled in.

“We need to get you taken care of. You’re going to start feeling the pain again soon, and I’m not wasting another dose on you.”

Caleb didn’t respond. He just focused on breathing and prayed that the Kalleran was telling the truth about getting him medical aid. And if he was, that he’d get him there soon.

The rumble of the speeder surrounded him as they traveled quickly in the direction of Plateau City. Caleb wished he could say that the painkillers were good enough, that they made the trip less agonizing. But they weren’t, and they didn’t. With all the vibrations and jostling, it was a wonder Caleb didn’t die from the trip alone. He almost wanted to. But he held on through sheer force of will, focusing on his breath like he’d been taught to all his life. Focus was most easily gained through the breath, and clarity was found in focus. So long as he maintained his focus, he’d stay awake. He’d make it through this.

It didn’t mean that he didn’t find and lose his focus again and again, repeatedly. In one of Caleb’s more lucid moments during the grueling ride, he idly thought that if the traditional Knight Trials had still been in effect, he’d have passed the Trial of Flesh with flying colors.

Not that he’d be able to see those colors anymore.

The trip felt as if it took forever and an age, and Caleb began to suspect in a moment of pain induced delirium that the Kalleran was driving around in circles on purpose because he knew what it was doing to the Padawan. He just knew it. But eventually he felt the speeder begin to slow until the rumbling was nothing more than gentle in comparison, vibrations of the speeder idling before it died. The vehicle jerked and rose a little as the Kalleran dismounted, and a moment later the storage compartment hissed open. Humid air surrounded Caleb, making him shiver.

“You still awake, kid?”

Caleb chose to groan in response. Words were beyond him. A gruff chuckle filled the air, and through the Force Caleb was surprised to find some grudging respect.

“Stubborn one, huh?” the Kalleran commented. “You should have just passed out.”

Caleb wanted to tell the Kalleran that because of his terrible driving he almost had on at least seven occasions. The man shifted Caleb, preparing to lift him, when instead he paused to tug gently at Caleb’s Padawan braid.

“I’m cutting this off,” the Kalleran declared. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but if they think you’re still alive, they’ll be looking for someone that looks like a Jedi. It will give you away.” Before Caleb could do anything to stop him, through verbal, physical, or Force means, it was already done. A knife slipped right through his hair, and he felt the tension which had been there at the base or his scalp for years relax as the hairs hung short and free, the same length as the rest. Watery anger slipped through Caleb because that was his Padawan braid. When he got back to the Temple, he’d have to explain why it was gone and would have to grow a new one.

That was, if he was even a Padawan anymore, now that his master was gone.

But Caleb grudgingly accepted the Kalleran’s argument. If the clones decided they wanted to finish the job and started a hunt for him, they’d be looking for a Jedi, and not having it would keep him safer, for the time being. Besides, he could just grow a new one later when this entire mess had been straightened out.

If this mess could be straightened out. Whatever this mess was.

The man frowned above him before he commented almost to himself, “Gonna have to get rid of those clothes too. They’re rags right now, but if you know what you’re looking for, they’re obviously Jedi.”

In Caleb’s pain addled mind, he half expected the Kalleran to start stripping him then and there, given that he apparently had the authority to do just about whatever he wanted to Caleb in his weakened state. But he didn’t. He just lifted the Padawan carefully and began moving toward a beat up old building in the slums of the lower city.

Caleb shot his senses out into the Force to check the building. At the edge of his range, Caleb found a lone person with an aura similar to the healers in the medical wing of the Temple. It was a doctor, and though the doctor’s presence was a bit rough around the edges, he found that it was more evidence in the Kalleran’s favor.

This man might really have saved Caleb’s life by bringing him here.

Who was he? All Caleb could remember was a fuzzy green and black striped face with an arrogant smirk on it, but this Kalleran had saved Caleb’s life when it might have been better that he hadn’t. He hadn’t had a reason to, and he had saved Caleb anyway.

At the very least, he wanted to know the name of the person who was helping finish what Master Billaba had started.

With all the effort he could muster, he whispered, “Name?” It was the only word Caleb could push through his lips, and the Kalleran paused to look at him.

“You want to know my name?”

If Caleb could have rolled his eyes, he would have, if they were still there at all. He thought his request was clear enough, but he gave a very painful jerk of his head just in case, a nod of affirmation. The Kalleran was quiet for a long moment, and Caleb was about sure he wasn’t going to respond, but his savior surprised him by saying quietly, “It’s Kasmir. Janus Kasmir.”

In response Caleb let his body go lax, and Kasmir frowned deeply at the Padawan before quickly entering the clinic.

“Whoever’s there better be dying, or I swear I’ll make sure you are if you’re going to make me work this late at night!”

“It’s me, Cheena,” Kasmir said as he moved toward a woman’s voice and into the next room where Caleb sensed the doctor was. “And I’d say it’s pretty bad.”

“Janus Kasmir,” Cheena, a female Kalleran by the feel of her, crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at Kasmir. “I can’t say I expected you.”

“Yeah, I’m too good to need your help,” he teased lightly before he nodded down to Caleb. “He’s not though. Can you help him?”

Caleb sensed the doctor’s — Cheena’s — hard concern as she neared him to get a better look. Caleb gasped in pain as Kasmir shifted his body for the quick inspection, and Cheena’s concern turned sharp.

“Bring him into the back room. What happened? Was he caught out on the battlefield?”

“Something like that, I guess,” Kasmir grunted as he followed her. “Don’t really know. I was looking through the wreckage of the battle earlier today and I found him half-dead. Thought I’d take him to you. You’re the best I know.”

“I wonder if I’m even surprised, Janus,” she commented, but the Kalleran shrugged a shoulder at the pointed phrase, unwilling to respond. Cheena clearly hadn’t expected Kasmir to reply, so instead she instructed him to place Caleb on a medical table so she could begin a proper examination.

“Since you’re here, you’re going to help me. Start cutting these rags off of him. They’re getting in the way.”

Kasmir used a vibroscalpel to cut through the seams and cloth of Caleb’s robes until he was left in nothing but his underwear. By now the painkillers were wearing off and every touch felt like an unbearable physical blow. But he endured it and let the doctor begin her examination with the help of a beat up, old 2-1B medical droid.

“Extensive blaster fire wounds, some penetrating into major organs,” she began to say out loud as she moved from one place to another. “Broken ribs. Looks like someone kicked him hard. See the boot print shaped bruise? That looks like a clone’s work.”

“Not sure I find that all too surprising,” commented Kasmir blandly. “What do you think, kid?”

If Caleb could have responded, he would have cursed the Kalleran. As it was, it seemed that he’d have to hold in his comments until later, when he wasn’t half-dead.

“This eye wound is strange. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cheena muttered as Caleb felt cold fingers probe his forehead, scant centimeters from the burn wound. “I’d almost say it was blaster fire, but it’s too consistent and solid for it. It’s like someone branded him.”

Kasmir didn’t say anything, and for that Caleb was thankful. The Kalleran had to know what caused it. Perhaps he wouldn’t curse him out when he had the strength and the time after all.

Cheena quickly conferred with her droid and Caleb felt himself maneuvered so that his back could be examined as well. “He needs surgery and a bacta bath. It’s the only way I see this playing out.” The doctor turned to her droid. “2-1, prep for surgery, then prep the bacta. We’ll need to get him into the tank fast after we’re done with him.”

The 2-1B surgical droid had already vanished, as if having anticipated Cheena’s commands.

“A bacta bath?” Kasmir said with real surprise that Caleb could feel through the Force. “You have a tank?”

“I do,” she said as she slid a needle into Caleb’s arm. It was only through his dimming Force sight that he even noticed at all. The prick had felt like nothing, given that it was swamped by the rest of his injuries. “I only use it in real emergencies. And when I know that the person needing it, or in this case requesting the treatment, can pay or owe me.”

Whatever she gave him rolled through him, and the pain began to fade, along with his concentration and his consciousness. Caleb felt as if he were floating. As if he were half-listening to a conversation from far, far away.

“Ah, come on Cheena! I don’t even know the kid!” Kasmir said in exasperation, and from the cloud Caleb was floating on, a whisper of amusement slipped through his mind. He wanted to smirk, but he couldn’t feel his body anymore. He couldn’t even see in the Force anymore.

“And yet you brought him here for medical attention. You might have brought him to a Republic medcenter, but no. You came to me, and so you’re going to pay my fees.”

“Damn it!” the Kalleran growled. With a fuzzy start, Caleb realized that he was moving, or being moved on a gurney, and as the darkness blanketed his mind, pulling him under, he heard a low hiss in his ear. “You’re more trouble then you’re worth! You’re going to owe me.”

Caleb didn’t respond. The darkness finally took him, and he sank into its oblivion.

* * *

 

The darkness wasn’t a solid thing, and Caleb found himself dropping in and out of it as if he were treading choppy water. One moment there was nothing, and then there was pain. He went under again and rose to frantic cursing and the electronic beep of a heartrate monitor, rapid and annoying. Someone said they were losing him, whoever ‘him’ was. Caleb went under again.

When he surfaced next, it was with a shred of lucidity, but nothing more. He felt his body maneuvered, lifted, and the strong smell of bacta filled his nose, bringing lazy curls of memory from the back of his mind. It smelled like the medical wing back at the Temple. It smelled like that time he saw Master Billaba where she healed in her bacta tank. Where was he?

It didn’t matter. The blanket of darkness was near again and he was willing to slip under. But curiosity stopped him for a moment when a familiar, gruff voice sank into his mind. Caleb wasn’t sure who that was, but he knew deep down that it was an important voice.

A name came to him like a quiet answer. Kasmir.

Another voice filled the air, and Caleb dimly realized he had a name for that one too. Cheena.

“Easy now, easy,” the Kalleran doctor said as both she and Kasmir maneuvered Caleb’s numb body. He could feel liquid take his weight, relieving gravity of its burden, and it was only moments before the cool press of the nutrient rich bacta covered his head and surrounded him. A breathing mask clamped tight around the lower half of his face like a suction, and with detached realization, he understood he was being placed in a bacta tank.

“Move,” Cheena told Kasmir, and Caleb was distantly surprised to find that he could hear while submerged, though he realized it was only because of the Force. It was right there, and his hearing was enhanced because of it. Everything sounded as clear as if he were listening in open air, only it had an oddly aquatic echo.

“How long do you think he’s going to have to be in there?” Kasmir asked Cheena and Caleb wondered who they were talking about, before it dawned on him that it was him. Maybe. He wasn’t entirely sure, not with that heavy blanket of darkness about to take him under again.

“Hard to say,” Cheena’s said quietly. “Whatever this kid got himself into, it must have been something big to get that much blaster fire. He’s beyond lucky to be alive, and that’s not taking into account his broken ribs, or his eyes either. Usually when I have people in for baster fire half as bad as that, they’re in the tank for a couple of weeks. For him? I’d give it two or three standard months minimum. There’s a whole lot of damage internally. It may look bad on the outside, but on the inside? Even with surgery?” Her voice fell silent for a moment, and Caleb felt his awareness bobbing before she spoke again. “Let’s just say we may have to take him out of the tank in the morning.”

“To examine him?” Kasmir questioned, confused.

“Because he’ll be dead.” Something in her tone made the awareness Caleb clung to solidify just a little more. But focusing on what she said, what it meant … that was harder to figure out. Her voice broke into his mind again. “But he’s a stubborn one, given that he’s fought this long. We’ll just have to see if he pulls through.”

“Right,” Kasmir said, though there was something in his tone that was unconvinced. Caleb struggled to make sense of what was being said, but balancing on the knife-edge of consciousness meant that he grasped very little.

At the very least, he managed to grasp that the next time he slipped under, he might not make it back up again.

Soft fear grew in a distant part of Caleb’s soul, and a sudden memory of Master Yoda’s voice filled his mind. It told him of the path to the dark side, and that it rested in one’s fear. That he should not let himself fear. In this semi-lucid consciousness, he understood with a strange, detached logic. He might die here in this tank once he went under again, but hadn’t he been ready to face death when he’d become a Padawan. What had changed? Had anything changed?

No. No, nothing had changed. Death was part of the natural flow of life, and if it was the will of the Force that he die, then so be it. There wasn’t much more he could do about it now. If he woke up, he woke up. If not, then he’d join his master in the Living Force, and that would be that.

The darkness swept over him, numbing him, taking away his mind and his lucidity. But before it could completely drag him under, somehow, deep in the Force, he sensed that his death might not be its will at all.

And with that, Caleb sank into unconsciousness again.

* * *

 

The blackness of sleep unfolded around him as consciousness came to Caleb, and he jolted painfully as memories of what had happened last night with the clones assaulted him. The escape, Kasmir, Cheena, the pain. Though he was awake the darkness refused to lift, like a veil he couldn’t see behind no matter how hard he tried.

Cold panic raced through his body and, disoriented and scared, he kicked aimlessly and almost yanked the breathing mask off his face. But his muscles screamed in retaliation with every twitch, and the panic swelled thicker in his blood. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, and frantically he grasped at the Force and found it ephemeral in his fear. He was disconnected and vulnerable. It was terrifying.

“Relax. You awake in there, kid?”

Caleb twitched at the sound of Kasmir’s voice amplified electronically through the bacta. It made his ears ache and his head throb. He made a move to touch his head but his arms felt resistant, like his muscles couldn’t move. Like they were too weak to move.

“Kid?”

The Padawan gave a jerky but unmistakable nod, even though it made his consciousness dizzy and swim in the unending, disorientating darkness. Nausea sat thick on the back of his tongue and he fought the urge as hard as he could not to throw up into the mask.

“Good,” Kasmir said through the comm. His gruff voice overwhelmed Caleb’s senses, but it also gave him something to focus on. “You were in a coma for a month. Cheena was worried that if you didn’t wake up soon, you might not at all. But it seems you got through.”

Shock slammed into him harder than an explosion, and Caleb stilled as he replayed what Kasmir had just told him. A month? He’d been unconscious for a month? That couldn’t be right. The fight with the clones had been yesterday. He remembered!

But Kasmir’s voice hadn’t been joking. There had been nothing but frankness there, too honest to be a lie.

“You’re not in critical condition,” Kasmir continued as if the news of his coma wasn’t a world-crushing shock. “You’re better off than you were, but Cheena’s sure you’re not coming out of there for a while yet. Get comfy, kid.”

The comm clicked off, and Caleb was left with only the sound of his blood pounding through his ears and the phantom cacophony of his thoughts. He felt waterlogged and alone, and on instinct tried again to reach out for the Force and felt its connection take as easily as breathing, now that he was calmer. The world beyond the darkness was in reach, and he pressed his senses out.

Slowly the world around him came into fuzzy focus in his mind, but it was enough. Better than the blind darkness. Caleb expected to find Kasmir nearby, but it seemed the Kalleran had left the room, and thus his radius of sight. But he returned a moment later with the doctor in tow, who hurried inside so she could run an analysis and ask Caleb a few questions which were limited only to yes or no indications made by the slow flip of his hand.

She told him that he would be in the tank for several weeks still. She also told him that it was unlikely he would get his sight back, and if he didn’t there was no hope for cybernetic implants either. The damage would be too severe.

Even if he could speak, he didn’t want to tell her what he already knew. That the damage was too severe. That his eyes … that he was never going to get them back. It was clear as day in the Force, like a fact. He would be physically blind for life. Even with this growing Force sense, he would never regain the use of his eyes. It was just a … a simple truth.

But it was a truth which still hurt, deep in his heart. He’d never experience the world like he’d known it, again.

After that, she left him alone to hang in the tank and heal.

Although there were healing mediations that Jedi were taught, Initiates didn’t learn them until they were taken on as Padawan, and Master Billaba hadn’t gotten around to teaching him more than a few standard rejuvenation techniques. It meant that, where a Jedi Knight might be able to heal in half, or even a quarter of the time it took a regular person to heal, Caleb would have to endure the entire healing process, however long that took.

It took a long time. It took him two more months.

The pain slowly left him, or at least stopped bothering him so insistently once he learned not to move, and that lead to clarity in his thoughts, his never-ending thoughts. They were painful thoughts, angry thoughts, memories, hopes, dreams, desires, irritations, and concerns. They tormented him relentlessly and he knew that if he didn’t find some way to occupy his mind, he’d be driven insane. That was why, after his second day back in consciousness, after his head had stopped aching so wretchedly, after the first wave of anger and anguish had lifted for the moment, he began focusing on meditation.

Caleb spent most of his time in the tank in meditation, and it wasn’t an easy thing for him to do. Usually he was very physically active, and he often had a hard time coming to stillness. It was a reason why he enjoyed training the saber forms and cadences, and achieving focus through moving meditation. It kept his body occupied so that his mind wouldn’t become distracted.

But he couldn’t do that here, not hanging motionless in the tank. He had to learn patience, and he took this to be an extreme test of it. It wasn’t easy. It might have been the most strenuous thing he’d ever mentally achieved, but he learned, and through that hard-earned patience he began intensive focus on other areas of mental training. Training in sense, and in control.

As the days past, his ability to sense his surroundings and ‘see’ began to grow and sharpen, becoming more focused and defined. The first week or so he hadn’t been able to maintain the Force sight for more than a few hours, and only with fuzzy clarity. But as his time in the tank grew, so did his ability to hold the new way of seeing, and the easier it became. The longer it lasted. The further he could see, and the sharper the world came into definition.

Master Billaba’s words whispered through his mind, memories of her lessons coaching him through the endless, maddening trudge of time. Those words told him it was in his best interest to train while he could, and not waste the valuable dedicated time. That it was what she would have done while she’d been in her bacta tank, if she’d been conscious. The mind was a powerful weapon and it was through meditation that the mind connected to the Force and sharpened. She would have considered a standard month of concentrated meditation a true gift from the Force. Two dedicated months? She’d have considered that a sign. A sign from the Force to focus on this area of his training. And so he would as well. Even if he risked being driven mad by it.

Didn’t mean he could resist taking some well-deserved breaks though.

Kasmir surprised Caleb by coming by fairly often to check up on him, and though Caleb would never say anything about it, he was secretly pleased to have the company when the Kalleran visited. Kasmir was the only one who knew the truth about him and his Jedi heritage. He hadn’t even told Cheena.

And that made terrorizing him sometimes that much more fun.

“It’s just eerie,” Kasmir commented quietly to Cheena once, during Caleb’s second week conscious in the tank. The Kalleran’s arms were crossed and guarded as Caleb continued to unnerve him by ‘looking’ in his direction, no matter where the Kalleran moved. He was careful to make it slow and subtle. Questionable. “He’s blind, isn’t he? Didn’t you say that his eyes were fried?”

“Not in those words,” Cheena had replied blandly as she handed Kasmir a cup of caf. “But yes. He’s blind. I ran a diagnostic on him again this morning, and I’m sure. His eyes and his optic nerves are useless. It’s more than likely that he can hear our muffled voices through the tank.”

“I’m sure,” Kasmir replied, unconvinced, and from behind the safety of the breathing mask, Caleb had given him a small grin. The Kalleran didn’t say anything more about it though, not while Cheena was still in the room, but the moment she had been pulled away by the appearance of another client at her door, Kasmir had put down his mug and began to move around the room with intent.

And Caleb had moved with him, wry amusement growing within him at his only source of entertainment. How long would it be until the Kalleran figured it out?

Finally, Kasmir had stepped up to the glass of the bacta tank and glared.

“You little tuft-sucking womp rat. You know exactly where I am, don’t you?”

Caleb didn’t know how well his face could transmit a smile given that the lower half was covered by the breathing mask and the upper half was still tight and recovering from the burn. It must have been enough though, because the Kalleran’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

“Damn Jedi,” he grumbled lowly to himself, now that Cheena was out of the room. “Stop it! Don’t you have meditations to do, or something?”

Caleb had shrugged and nodded because he did have more meditation to do. But he didn’t exactly know how he was supposed to tell the Kalleran that he was taking a break.

“And you can hear through the glass too? Of course you can,” Kasmir had muttered and Caleb shrugged again. He’d forgotten that the comm hadn’t been in use. Oops. He guessed that secret was out too.

But other than the few times that he could tease or terrorize the Kalleran, he spent his time quietly in meditation as his body slowly healed and the rage of his mind softened into the Force. His wounds closed, and his muscles began to ache, not with pain, but with inactivity. He longed for movement, craved it, but Cheena still wasn’t willing to let him out of the tank. She’d come and talk to him, sometimes, ask him questions that he’d do his best to answer, but otherwise his life was static and quiet.

Kasmir didn’t tell him anything about the news either, and that in itself was its own irritation. More than anything he wanted to know what was going on in the outside world. He wanted to know why the clones had turned on them. What the Jedi Council were doing about it. But every time Kasmir came, it was only to tease him, or hassle him, or to tell him to hurry up and heal so that he could stop racking up charges with Cheena. Never any news.

And so Caleb waited in a void, a liquid void where the only other being he could interact with was the Force itself. And that’s what he did. Every day he felt himself connect a little more to the galaxy through the Force and could spend hours feeling. Letting the Force flow through him as he simply listened with patient attention as he waited for his circumstances to change. He knew they had to soon, but until then, there was the Force.

It didn’t mean that when the day came when Cheena finally declared he was ready to be pulled from the tank, he wasn’t positively thrilled.

“Pull him out and set him there after you’ve cleaned him,” Cheena told Kasmir as she pulled a blanket from a cabinet and placed it on the cot she indicated. “I have to take care of someone else right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before I can get back to him. His muscles will have atrophied for all the time he was in there. He’s going to be weak.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the male Kalleran grumbled as he climbed the steps that lead up to the mouth of the bacta tank, hitting a button that began to automatically raise Caleb from the bacta. The boy’s crown broke through the surface, and Caleb fought to keep his head up as gravity pulled at it, making his muscles burn and tremble from their atrophy.

Once his chest was out of the bacta, Kasmir stopped the lifter and took the breathing mask off after the bacta had mostly run off him. Caleb immediately gasped and began coughing as fresh air filled his lungs. He reached for the edge of the tank, arms flopping weakly, and though he tried to pull the rest of his body out of the bath his muscles shook with the strain. They were too weak, and it was Kasmir who got him the rest of the way out.

“Stop moving!” Kasmir scolded as he clung to Caleb’s bacta slick form before slinging him under an arm and carefully descending the metal steps. “I’ll drop you, and I say that as a promise. I’m not going to disgrace myself because of you, kid.”

Caleb was still coughing and trying to get his lungs working properly when he felt himself placed in a refresher, which began clinically ridding him of the bacta he’d been in for months now. The sensation was mind numbing. It was a glorious feeling, to be clean and dry. His time in the refresher only lasted about a minute before it was turned off, and he immediately shivered before the blanket that Cheena had pulled out for him was thrown at him.

Shaky, he swept it over his shoulders before his legs gave a great tremble and he toppled forward. Kasmir caught him again before he hit the ground and hauled him up with a grumble. Caleb suddenly found himself lying on his back on a scratchy cot, the blanket wrapped around him to keep in the warmth.

Before the Kalleran could have a chance to open his mouth to say anything about the pathetic state Caleb found himself in, Caleb beat him to the punch.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’,” Caleb huffed, his voice wretched from months of forced silence. “And you’re a terrible driver.”

Kasmir stared at Caleb as he continued to cough and huff before a huge laugh erupted from him. “Have you been waiting all this time to tell me that, kid?”

“I said,” Caleb repeated more forcefully, “Don’t call me ‘kid’!”

The laughter that had burst from the Kalleran tapered off as Kasmir looked seriously at the Padawan. “You know, your name hasn’t been circulating as a wanted fugitive but I suspect that if the new Empire caught wind of a kid named ‘Caleb Dume’ still roaming around, you’d be in for a world of trouble. So until you come up with a new name, you’re better off without one … kid.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “Empire?” There was an Empire now? What was the Republic doing about it? Was it the Separatists? Had they finally gotten the upper hand enough to win? Had that been what the murder of his master had been about? What had happened in the last three months?

“A lot of things have changed since you went into that tank kid,” Kasmir said quietly as he stood over Caleb, arms crossed. “The galaxy is a different place now. Empire’s in control. Not your Republic.”

What was that supposed to even mean? He probed with the Force, but all it told him was that whatever Kasmir said was true. Caleb needed information. That was one of the first things the Temple taught its Initiates. Knowledge brought guidance. Caleb needed to know what happened while he was in the tank, and he knew that an important part of the puzzle was this Empire. But there was one question he needed answered first, and it was the one that had pressed constantly at his mind from within his enforced solitude.

“Where’s my comlink?” Caleb asked, choosing to ignore, for now, Kasmir’s comment about his name. “I need to get in touch with the Jedi Council. They need to know what happened here.”

Kasmir’s lips pressed thin and the feel of the Kalleran suddenly became … uncomfortable. Hesitant, hard, maybe even a little sad for him. Dark dread grew around Caleb’s heart, but he found himself asking anyway.

“What is it?”

Kasmir looked at him for a long, pregnant moment before he said, “A few days after we put you in the tank, your comlink started acting up. Beeping in what I’ve heard on the streets was a Jedi Recall signal.” Caleb held his breath.

“That’s the signal calling all Jedi back to the Temple. You have to get me to Coruscant!” Something big must have happened that day the clones went crazy if the Masters had issue the recall signal. He needed to get to Coruscant now.

The Kalleran shook his head.

“No, kid. I’m not taking you to Coruscant.”

Outrage roared through Caleb and somehow, despite how much his weak muscles had atrophied, he pushed himself up and reached out to grab the leather strap of the Kalleran’s pauldron. “You have to! You’ve helped me this much, what’s a trip to the Core? I’m blind and I don’t think I can make it there on my own right now.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Kasmir replied evenly, unperturbed by the Padawan’s weak aggression. “But no, I’m not going to take you to Coruscant. And believe it or not, it’s because I’ve helped you that I’m not taking you. It would have been a waste of my efforts if you went there and were killed the second you got into Coruscanti airspace.”

What?

Something in Kasmir’s tone made Caleb pause in confusion as he replayed what the Kalleran had just said slowly in his mind.

“Why do you think that I’d be killed if I went to Coruscant? That’s the homeworld of the Jedi. That’s where we’re safest.”

“Not anymore. Not since the rise of the new Empire.” Caleb sensed the Kalleran digging into a pocket at his waist before he pulled out Caleb’s Jedi comlink. “The recall was a trap for any surviving Jedi, and you don’t want to know how many Imperial reports there were on the HoloNet that made a show of shooting down any Jedi foolish enough to listen to it. You were all betrayed, and the warning telling you all to go into hiding instead came too late, in most cases. Here.”

Kasmir took Caleb’s hand off of his pauldron and instead pressed the comlink into it. Working off memory, Caleb manipulated the controls to replay the last few messages and he heard the distinctive rhythm of the recall signal. It had been sent fifteen minutes before another message had followed, and the sound of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice filled the air with calm, but firm warning.

They’d been betrayed. The Order was destroyed. The Republic was gone, replaced by this new Empire. Coruscant, his home, was dangerous now and he could never go back. There was nothing to go back to.

Caleb, for the first time in his life, was a Jedi alone.

The comlink went silent and the room felt cold and still, even from underneath the blanket. His hopes had all hinged on getting back to the Temple and to the other Jedi, but … those hopes were dashed. He couldn’t do that anymore. He was a fugitive, and his very being might get him killed.

Overwhelmed and forgetting his newly healed injuries, he accidentally pressed a hand to his eyes, but hissed as the sensitivity of raw nerves screamed at him in fiery retaliation. Instead he ran a hand through his hair and clenched a handful hard. This was awful. What was he supposed to do now? What was he supposed to do?

“You do what you have to do,” Kasmir replied quietly, and it was only then that Caleb realized he’d asked his desperate question out loud. “You can’t be a Jedi anymore, not if you want to stay alive. You’re going to have to figure out how to live in the actual galaxy with the rest of us miscreants, and you do that by lying, cheating, and stealing. You survive.” Kasmir smirked dryly. “As well as blind kid like you can, anyway.”

Now both of Caleb’s hands were buried deep in his hair as desperation and fear filled him, and the only things stopping him from physically lashing out were the weakness of his muscles and the patience two months conscious in the tank had given him. The Jedi Order hadn’t prepared him for anything like this. He knew how to fight and how to meditate, but there was a certain dependence Jedi had on each other, and on the Order. If they didn’t know what to do, an answer could always be gained from the Temple. Support and advice could be found from other members of the Order. There was rarely a need to depend on anyone else for guidance and safety. The Jedi Order had always been there, and it was illogical to think it wouldn’t be there.

But it was gone now, and with it all of its support. What should he do now? And if Kasmir was right, could he do those things to survive in this new galaxy?

He’d have to. There was no other way.

“If it helps any, I’ve talked to Cheena. She’s agreed to keep you around and help you out while you recover. Otherwise, if I were you, I’d keep my head down and pretend I’d never heard a thing about the Force, or the Jedi, in my life.”

With that, Kasmir stood and turned, pausing only to drop a small sack on Caleb’s lap, one that Caleb sensed contained his and Master Billaba’s lightsabers and Master Billaba’s … his Holocron.

“Good luck, kid. Hope you don’t die too soon.”

Caleb’s head shot up as alarm raced through him. “What? You’re leaving? Take me with you!”

“Are you crazy, kid? You’re blind and you’re a liability. No way am I taking you with me. You’d only get me killed.”

“No, I won’t!” he insisted, even though he suspected it was riding the fine edge of a lie. His Force sense was definitely improved after two standard months straight of meditation training, but it was still a new skill, and he hadn’t mastered it fully yet. Sometimes the sense dropped out and it would take time to reconnect with the Force again. He knew Kasmir was a smuggler, and that sort of job required you to be constantly on your game. Caleb couldn’t honestly say that he’d be able to hold his weight. Not yet.

But Kasmir was the only person he knew that had taken a chance on him and showed him kindness, knowing exactly what he was. He couldn’t just let the Kalleran walk out of his life. He could sense it in the Force that this man was still somehow connected to his future. He couldn’t just leave.

But what could Caleb possibly do to stop him, in his weakened state?

“You’re a liar, which is a good start for your new life,” Kasmir said with firm amusement. “You may be able to sense things, but I don’t trust it to keep my back safe. Stay with Cheena. Keep your head down and live out your life on Kaller. Or find transport onto another backwater planet where the Empire can’t find you. You might try Tatooine. I hear it’s pretty desolate and in Hutt space. Might be safe there.”

“I don’t want to go to Tatooine!” Caleb argued, turning his face angrily at the Kalleran. “Take me with you!”

“No way, kid. See you around.” Before Caleb could argue, Kasmir walked out and left him alone and lost in his new and terrifying world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A background chapter, and the origin of my canon divergence. After the action of the last chapter, this one’s pace is much slower, but I hope you liked it! Kasmir is finally here! He’s one of my favorite characters in Rebels/Kanan’s story, and writing him is always a pleasure. I hope you like the way I develop his and Kanan’s relationship in the chapters to come.
> 
> A few points to address. I completely made Cheena up, but even so I hope you liked her. There were a few snippets of dialog I borrowed from the comics, so there’s that. And finally, there is a reason why Hera thinks Kanan has blue eyes, even though he’s blind from age 14. It’s something that will be addressed in future chapters.
> 
> Like I said before, I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you to everyone who’s reviewed and liked the story so far! Also, keep an eye out. The next chapter might be out sooner than you think.


	7. Origins - Rika of the Luka Sene

The month following his liberation from the tank was slow and careful as Caleb became more accustomed to the blindness which sat thick in his life, and the directionless path it had abruptly taken. All things considered, it wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t great by any stretch of the word, but it wasn’t the hell the Padawan had been expecting to find when he’d been thrust into a harsh new world, as if born again.

Kasmir was good on his word and Cheena took him in. With her help Caleb went through muscular rehabilitation exercises and impressed her with his progress. Cheena was so impressed by his progress that, after a week, she had him running errands mercilessly, delivering medication in the slums armed only with a walking stick to help guide him, and to fight off anyone who decided it was a good idea to mug the blind. He quietly thought the treatment bordered on cruel, but with her no-nonsense attitude she argued it was actually quite practical. He needed to figure out how to get along blind in life and not mope around her clinic. She wasn’t going to put him up forever.

Usually, most people left him alone once they realized he was dirty, poor, blind, and probably didn’t have much more than they did. But sometimes that didn’t much matter to those real tuft-suckers, and though his Force sense was good enough that he could see the threats coming, his body hadn’t recovered enough of its strength and reflex to avoid attacks well. There were days when he returned to Cheena’s beaten and bloody for his efforts, and the pragmatic doctor would only purse her lips at the nuisance he was making of himself, though she didn’t kick him out. Not after he offered to help clean her clinic, as best as she thought he could, since he acted the part of the blind even around her.

That was the hardest thing about his new life. The acting. The pretending to be blind when, in reality, he was able to get around just fine. Maybe not as well as when he’d had eyes, but seeing wasn’t really a huge problem, so long as he didn’t get into trouble. At times, it was a better sight too, with three hundred and sixty-degree range, though the range wasn’t as large or as wide as he’d like. He could change that by focusing the sight sense in any specific direction and he’d be able to see much further, but he’d lose the three-sixty view he’d slowly become accustomed to experiencing.

But he wasn’t willing to show anyone proof of it. Everyone expected to see a blind boy, and if they knew he was blind and he started acting like he could see, then that would raise all sorts of questions, including the attentions of the Empire. The Empire was hunting, and hunting hard. Jedi and Force-sensitives were more ruthlessly hunted than general thieves were, and he couldn’t afford to be careless, not when his life had been saved.

So he pretended to stumble, to knock into things, to be frustrated — though that wasn’t hard to fake given that he was frustrated by all of it. It was a new world he was learning, and though he didn’t like it, he was slowly making his way through it. Even if he had to endure a few beatings in the process so as not to reveal his Jedi heritage.

The only one he didn’t have to hide around was Kasmir, but those moments were few and far between. When he’d left Caleb at Cheena’s that day, he’d clearly done it with the intention of being done with him. But Caleb found it interesting that, on occasion, Kasmir still swung by. Usually it wasn’t for long. Usually it was to scowl at him for still being on Kaller and for making his debt to Cheena bigger, but Caleb sensed in the Force that that might not be the full story.

If Caleb let himself think it, he might have thought the Kalleran was concerned and was keeping an eye out for him.

But Caleb wasn’t going to do that to himself. Give himself false hope.

Didn’t stop him from following the Kalleran around though, when he could. Just to see what he was up to and to keep an eye on him. Kasmir was the only one who knew the truth, and the only person, next to Cheena, that Caleb knew at all. Kasmir was certainly the only one who knew his real name. Cheena had never asked and he’d never volunteered it, which meant he’d grudgingly accepted it when she called him ‘boy’ or ‘kid’ to get his attention.

When he did follow Kasmir around, he wasn’t surprised to find the Kalleran engaged in … negotiations. Negotiations which Caleb had to admit were carried out with more tact and cunning than he’d originally given the Kalleran credit for. Kasmir never stayed in the city though. The man had a ship, a surprisingly nice one for a smuggler, and it was clear that he treated it as his home and base. If Caleb ever wanted to find him, he’d just have to search for the ship, and sooner or later the Kalleran would show up.

He never approached Kasmir though. He kept tabs on the man, but Kasmir had made it pretty clear that Caleb was a liability. And Caleb was honest enough with himself to know it was the truth.

The thing that kept Caleb coming back was the hope that maybe he could convince Kasmir one day that he wasn’t. He knew better than to approach him now, because though his Force sense was good, it still wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t action ready, and he knew that if he went off with Kasmir it would have to be, or he really would be putting the Kalleran in danger.

It grated at him, but … he didn’t want to do that, put Kasmir in danger. Not the man who’d saved him when he should have died in the dirt, like his master.

So he practiced. Or he did everything he could think of to practice, which unfortunately wasn’t much. More than anything, he wanted to open the holocron for knowledge, for guidance, but nowhere was safe. He couldn’t risk opening it, not even for a moment, while he was at Cheena’s. Though she’d let him stay, he had no doubt she’d want him gone the very instant she found out what he really was. Not to mention, even if she did keep his secret, there was no telling if anyone else was watching and the bounty for a Jedi was a tempting thing, sometimes even for him. He’d occasionally morbidly wonder what the Empire would do if he decided to turn himself in for the reward. He wondered if they’d at least wait until he’d had a proper bath and a decent meal before they shot him like an animal.

All he could really do to practice, then, was more meditation, moving meditation. He tried to push his senses to their limits, to expand them and make them as accurate as possible. It was taxing and slow work since he had no idea what he was doing, but he supposed that there was some improvement. He could tell when he was about to be mugged, at least.

One day Caleb was making another delivery for Cheena — intent on finishing it so he could track and find Kasmir to find out what he was up to today — when he turned down a street and bumped into someone. The old woman stumbled back on unsteady feet, cane flailing out so she could catch her balance, and on instinct Caleb reached out and caught her before she fell. It had been so instinctive a reaction that he’d accidentally used the Force to help keep himself balanced as he stabilized her. Caleb cursed himself. That would have been an unnatural move for a normal person, let alone a blind one.

Worried that she had noticed, he helped her straighten up again as he searched the Force to check her emotions, wondering if he might have to use the Force to persuade her to forget. His breath caught when he realized that she was blind too.

But what really surprised him was that the touch in the Force he’d sent her way had echoed back, like a response. His hand involuntarily squeezed the arm of the blind old woman before him, his world shaking.

“You …” Caleb whispered, his voice lost. “You’re—”

“Blind?” She provided easily as she pulled her arm from his and dusted off her dress, the bandages around her eyes clean and even. “Yes, dear. Just as blind as you.”

Caleb immediately wondered about that because if she was as blind as he was, and she knew he was blind too, then that meant she wasn’t blind at all. But what did this mean? What did he say? What did he do? For all of his training at the Temple he was drawing the biggest blank now that he’d found not only a Force user, but a blind one.

Just like him.

“You’re …” Caleb said again, still speechless and stupid, and the old woman simply smiled kindly before she gently touched his arm.

“Yes, dear,” she said, and Caleb wasn’t sure what she’d agreed to exactly. She frowned at him after a moment, and he felt the Force slip around him gently at her will. “Do you mind if I take a look at you?”

Mindlessly he nodded, but she didn’t so much as shift. When his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her frown deepened.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you, child?” she asked quietly, and his brow furrowed deeper as his understanding failed him. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “If you nodded, I can’t see it. You need to tell me, dear.”

Caleb blinked his blind eyes. She was lying, she could see it, he knew she could, but then she turned her head as if waiting, and he suddenly realized she’d done it so he remembered where they were. Out in public, on a street with plenty of eyes and ears to watch the odd exchange between a blind boy and a blind old woman.

Abruptly he realized she was reminding him that it wasn’t safe, and a wrong move might give either of them away.

“Yes,” he said with a shaky voice, and the hand that was on his arm moved up to his shoulder, then to his neck, jaw, and then his face where both hands spread to get a layout of his face with feather-light touch.

It was a strange sensation, foreign, but the feel of weathered, paper-thin skin was light and gentle as she traced over his brow, his lips, nose, cheeks, and then finally over his eyes and the sensitive scarring there. Her frown deepened at the feel of the scar tissue and she sighed softly. “You poor dear. Within the last year?”

“Four months ago,” Caleb whispered. Everyone was still talking about the Jedi Purge, even four months after and he knew that she understood what he’d meant. The backs of his eyes burned as he fought to keep his emotions in check, emotions he’d ignored and buried and meditated away, but he found it hard, more difficult than he’d ever anticipated. Because this old woman, this old, blind woman, this Force-sensitive … she knew. He knew she knew, and all he felt through the Force was boundless compassion.

This gentle touch and her understanding undid him in an instant. It was all he could do to hold his tears back.

Her old hands fell from his eyes to his neck, then slid across his shoulders before she pulled him into a warm embrace.

“You poor boy,” she said gently against his neck, and his shoulders shook as he found himself clinging to the old blind woman for all of her kindness. “I take it your mother or father didn’t make it?”

Caleb knew instantly what she’d really meant, and his heart ached. He was on the verge of falling apart, but he somehow managed to hold it together as he shook his head against her shoulder. “No. She didn’t.”

“I see.” Gently she pulled him away and he found he had to force himself to let her go. “Tell me, child, would you like some tea? My home is a bit out of the way, but I do make a fine pot of tea, believe it or not.”

He was already turning with her, nodding as all thoughts of Kasmir and whatever he was up to vanished from thought. When she regarded him curiously, he remembered and said, “Yes.” It was thick and croaky, but his decision was set, and she smiled before lifting her cane.

“Then give me your arm, child, and I will lead the way.”

Throughout the journey, all Caleb wanted to do was ask questions. He had so many of them, all begging to be asked, dying to be uttered and answered, but the very fact that they were acting blind was telling enough. His questions couldn’t be asked here, out in the streets where anyone might hear them. They were dangerous questions, and if he wanted them answered, he’d have to wait.

He had to wait a while but he found it was worth it because this blind old woman lived outside of Plateau City, on the edge of the forest in a small hut. From the outside it didn’t look like much. It certainly didn’t look like anything anyone would try to steal from.

They maintained their blind act all the way up to the door, but once she’d opened the door and ushered him in, the pretense immediately fell from both of them as she placed her cane by the entrance and he turned to stare at her.

Now that they were here, and now that they didn’t have to be so careful, all of the questions that had burned in his mind vanished. He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was watch in disbelief as she moved around him toward a tiny kitchen where she began to boil water with an ease no blind person had. He kept watching as she navigated around the room, reaching for cups and tealeaves before setting the tea to seep once the water was ready.

“Your Force sense is impressive for being so young and newly blinded,” she finally said, breaking the silence as she sat on a stool, indicating for him to sit in the one opposite her. “It would take others in your situation much longer to harness such control.”

“Meditating in a bacta tank for two months with nothing to do but practice helps,” Caleb said, his voice starting off rough but cleaning up as he went. “I can get by pretty well, but I can’t sense very far. Only several meters ahead if I’m looking everywhere.”

“That will improve with time and practice, dear,” she said with certainty. “Many Miraluka children have the same problem when they first begin to learn.”

“Miraluka,” Caleb echoed, half-forgotten knowledge unfurling in his mind as the word fell from his lips. “You’re Miraluka?”

She nodded with a small smile, and who she was and why she was Force-sensitive and blind made sense. He’d thought that she’d been blinded at some point in her life, but if she was Miraluka, that meant that she’d been born blind. All Miraluka were born without eyes, but they were Force-sensitive. Because of that, they were able to use the Force to see, like he was learning to do now.

“I’m of the Luka Sene,” she said with a hint of pride before it faded away, and she looked to check on the tea with a sigh. “Or, I was. I suppose it’s entirely possible the Luka Sene doesn’t exist anymore, in this new Empire. Much like the Jedi.” She paused in her work to turn her blind gaze over her shoulder, and he looked down, but nodded in agreement.

“You know?”

“That you are Jedi?” the old woman asked with a soft chuckle, and when she turned the tea was ready. “I can see it as easily as I see you now. The light side of the Force is strong in you.”

Caleb didn’t say anything in response because he didn’t know what to say. Idly he wondered what he must feel like in the Force, if this old Miraluka had known what he was simply from his Force presence.

She handed Caleb a clay cup. It smelled warm and soothing, and it made his heart ache bittersweet. It smelled a little like the tea the Order sometimes gave Initiates at the Temple when they were having trouble sleeping, or when they were troubled. Though it wasn’t completely the same, it made his throat tighten with painful nostalgia. He sipped it and let the half-familiar taste slip across his tongue and down his throat, soothing the tight muscles there, and soothing him.

She took a sip of the tea as well before she said stoically, “You need to be careful. With the way you shine in the Force, any Force user will be able to sense you if you’re in the same area.” She looked at him, and he got the strongest sense of fatigue, as if she wore a lifetime’s worth of weight on her shoulders. “I hear talk that the Empire is investing in Jedi hunters. Inquisitors. It’s no longer safe for you to show your Force presence so boldly, you know. You should try to hide it better.”

“Hide it?” There was no hiding the questioning tone in his voice, and she tilted her head in curiosity.

“Do you know anything about the skill of buried presence? Or maybe it would be better known to you as Force stealth, or Force concealment?” The terms did sound familiar, but she must have picked up that he didn’t understand fully, and she nodded to herself. “I see. Your master did not have time to teach you?”

“I was only a Padawan for six months,” he admitted as he looked into the tea in his cup. “Most of that time was spent in battle, during the Clone Wars. There wasn’t a whole lot of time for training.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said gently as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then I will explain. Force concealment is the ability to hide one’s Force presence from those who might be looking for it.”

Ah. That made sense.

“I wish I had known, then,” he said. “I might have focused on learning how to do that too.”

“It is something you should work on,” she agreed. “It’s difficult to accomplish, however, and requires a great deal of skill and practice. But given that you’ve developed your Force sense to such an extent in only four months, I’ve little doubt you can master concealment quickly enough.”

“Do you know how to do it?” he asked, hopeful, and she lifted an eyebrow as she smirked at him.

“Child, you wouldn’t have known about my Force presence if I hadn’t let you feel it.” He smirked at her in response. He hadn’t wanted to jump to conclusions. “I was a Sene Seeker when I was younger. It’s easier to track down our rogue Luka Sene if they can’t sense you coming. I hadn’t realized then that the skill was going to be the one I’d need for my future survival, as it is.”

“What are you doing on Kaller?” he asked. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to have this small home and to be known well enough as a local. I’m just glad I thought ahead and pretended to be blind since I first arrived here. As for why I’m here on Kaller,” she paused as if in thought before she finally said, “A long time ago, I had a farsight vision which showed me here, on Kaller. So when I felt it was time, I came and settled down to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” the old Miraluka said, bemused, and Caleb flushed. Great. He meets a Miraluka for the first time and after an hour even she picked up on his bad habit. She smiled at him reassuringly. “That’s a good thing, child. Never stop asking questions. It shows a sharp mind.”

“Or an annoying one,” he sighed, and she chuckled at him.

“I was waiting for a boy I knew would one day need my help.” She took a long, thoughtful sip before she said, “I was waiting for the boy in my farsight vision. For you, child.”

In the Force, Caleb felt the truth of her words. She’d been waiting for him?

“How do you know it’s me?” he asked, unable to look past his doubt. “It might be someone else.”

“Your face told me. Your scar,” she replied. “That’s why I asked if I could look at you, so that I could be certain.” He fell silent as he finished his tea, thinking. He didn’t know what to make of all of this. It was all so … unbelievable.

But then, wasn’t that the way of the Force?

Finally, he said, “My name is Caleb. Caleb Dume.”

“I am Rika of the Luka Sene,” Rika said kindly. “And it is a pleasure to finally meet you Caleb. I’ve been waiting a long time.” After a moment she asked, “Where have you been staying?”

“With a Kalleran doctor in the city,” Caleb said. “I help out around the clinic to earn my keep.”

“Do you like it there?”

He shrugged. “Cheena’s … well, I wouldn’t call her the nicest person, but she’s never been cruel to me. I help out enough that she puts up with me, but … it’s all right, I guess.”

Rika nodded thoughtfully.

“You know, Caleb, I know that we’ve only just met, but if you’d like somewhere else to stay, I wouldn’t mind some company around this place.” Rika’s words were soft and Caleb stared at her, as much as the blind could stare anyway. But with her, she understood, and she just chuckled at him and his surprise.

“I’m an old woman, Caleb, and though I’ve lived here on Kaller for a long time, life hasn’t gotten much easier. Less so as the years pass. I could use the extra help. And I’d also like to help you learn and improve your skills. There is much I can teach as a Miraluka and as a former member of the Luka Sene. But I understand if you’d prefer to stay at your clinic. The offer will always be open should you change your mind.”

Caleb was speechless.

“You’d … you’d let me stay here? With you, Rika?”

“Isn’t that what I said, child? And here I thought your kind were supposed to be perceptive.” The old woman reached for his cup and poured him more of the steaming tea, and for a moment Caleb forgot that he didn’t have to act the part of the blind and burned his finger as he found the edge of the tea. Caleb blushed and Rika smiled knowingly.

“If it’s not too much of a problem,” Caleb said slowly after taking a sip of the hot and soothing tea. “I’d like that. And I would love to learn from you, if you’re willing to teach me.”

Her worn and warm hand reached and gently covered his hand, full of kindness and understanding. “Then you are welcome here, Caleb Dume.”

For the first time in months Caleb smiled, because he knew that he was. He really was.

* * *

 

Life with Rika was a balm to the bloody wound that Order 66 had left him with, and living with her was the happiest he’d been since then. While he’d been a Padawan fighting with Master Billaba, he’d felt his calling, his true calling, out on the battlefield. He’d been alive and invigorated, and at the time he’d have been willing to stay out there and defend the Republic forever … if Order 66 had never happened.

But with Rika, there was none of that. Living with her was like … well, he didn’t quite know what it was like. He’d never experienced anything like it before. He supposed, if he had to guess, it was like what he imagined having a family, a grandmother, would be like. Caring. Peaceful. Loving. They worked well together and they did what they could to keep each other safe.

When he’d first moved in with Rika, he’d been concerned that Cheena might not let him go. But when the doctor had shrugged and told him it was about damn time, Caleb guessed that maybe he wasn’t that surprised. He’d been helpful, but though he’d lived there, they’d never been close. He’d also been worried that the people who lived near Rika on the outskirts of the forest would take interest to the fact that there was now a young boy living with her, but no. Anyone who so much as glanced at them to take notice quickly forgot them.

They were just two blind people living together. It didn’t surprise anyone.

There were a lot of reasons he enjoyed living with the Miraluka, the most obvious being that he didn’t have to hide from her. There was no pretending while they were in their small hut, out on the edge of the forest. No accidental tripping. No walking sticks. No false gazes. They could be exactly what they were, blind Force users, and it was nice to have a safe space like the hut after the caution of Cheena’s clinic. It also meant he could relax a little on using the holocron, and actually learn from it like he was meant to.

He still had to be careful, though. Whenever he activated the holocron, he had to use a small, special room Rika had which blocked light and was fairly soundproof. It was enough for him to use and consult the holocron, but it wasn’t at all large enough to practice saber cadences if he wanted to. Truth was, he did, but Kaller wasn’t safe anywhere for him to practice his swordplay. Not even this far into the forest. He’d have to find another way to practice, but until then both his and Master Billaba’s blades remained hidden in the dark with the holocron, in a special compartment Rika kept for hiding valuables.

While with Rika, he learned a lot about Force sense, how it progressed and matured and the abilities that could develop from cultivating a strong sense. The most interesting, by far, were the development of field detection — a super-sensitive Force sense capable of detecting energy fields of all kinds, which just seemed useful in general — farsight, like Rika had used to see that she would be here to help and train Caleb, and of course the Force concealment.

Almost immediately she’d tested his Force sense limits and set him on a strict training regimen which looked to anyone who didn’t know what was really going on as if Caleb was begging in the streets. The point wasn’t to make money. If he did, that was all well and good, but it was more about precision and distance.

How clearly could he see? What did any given target have on them? What did any ten targets have concealed on them? What did any twenty, thirty, the whole street, have concealed on them at any given moment. How far could he direct the sense specifically, and broadly. He’d been right when he’d noticed that a broad view which allowed him a full three-sixty scope limited his range, but focus in one direction expanded it. The practice improved his sight by leaps and bounds.

At the same time, Rika emphasized training Force concealment with a devotion which reminded him of Master Billaba, and he realized quickly why she’d told him it was a difficult skill to learn.

The first thing she made him understand was the feel of his own Force presence and Force signature. It was true that he was aware of it, and aware of how to manipulate it through the Force since he’d had to learn how to do it at the Temple. But though this training was similar, it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough to recognizing his Force presence. He had to know it, all of it, its size, its feel, its texture and its brightness.

For practice, Rika had told him to examine her Force presence, and he had a hard time finding it. It had been small, like any normal, non-Force-sensitive being’s signature. Once he’d told her that, she’d told him to check again, and this time he’d been blown away.

It wasn’t small anymore. It felt like it was everywhere in the hut, like warm radiance, heat which seeped from her and out into the air. It was a wonder any regular person hadn’t noticed it the very moment she’d released her control and come running with clones. She was like a small, brilliant sun in the Force, impossible to ignore.

He blinked, and the next instant her signature was small again, almost gone, and Caleb was awestruck that her presence had changed so radically.

“It’s still all there,” she replied when he’d asked where it had all gone. “I’ve just integrated it better into the Force.”

“Do I feel like that?” he asked, suddenly worried about his own Force presence, and he was relieved, at first, when Rika shook her head.

“No, child. Yours is much larger and much brighter. It’s very hard to miss.”

Caleb had groaned before running a hand through his hair. Great. Just great. He’d be hunted by the end of the week. Rika had only given him an encouraging smile before instructing him on the basics of concealment, and he all but threw himself into the training. If he wanted to survive and still use the Force, this skill was essential.

Like Rika had cautioned, the skill wasn’t easy. Integrating one’s Force presence into the Force to become unnoticeable, hidden, was like trying to smooth a snag in a rug. The only problem was that his Force presence was like a huge, noticeable hole in the figurative Force rug, and smoothing his presence into it was a work of delicate coaxing which almost bordered on artistry. It was frustrating. Even with his newfound focus and control it was difficult. He, for one, couldn’t sense if he’d made any real progress, but Rika assured him that he had. He was no longer like a nova in the Force, but instead a small cluster of stars.

Caleb tried not to point out that a small cluster of stars was still an eye-catching thing to behold.

But if she was right, he was improving, and it was just a matter of time until he could become as unnoticeable in the Force as she was. So he trained constantly, as if his — and now old Rika’s — life depended on it. Because it did.

But whenever he wasn’t training, in the evening over their meals when the day was ending and it was just the two of them and the gentle white-noise of the forest nightlife, they’d talk. Caleb would ask her questions about her life as a Miraluka, as a Luka Sene, and as a Sene Seeker, and in turn he’d tell her stories of his childhood at the Temple. Good times, funny stories. He talked a little about Master Billaba, but he always veered away from her death and Rika never pried.

All things considered, it was a hard life, but he found it was a good one. He liked it. He liked Rika, and their home, and having something to focus on now, to really train at to keep his mind busy. He rarely had idle time.

Then one day he was surprised when Janus Kasmir appeared next to him as he was on his way back to Rika’s hut.

“Well, well. The kid’s alive!”

“Kasmir!” Caleb said in response, surprising himself because as annoying as this Kalleran could be, he was happy to see him all the same. He hadn’t seen him since he’d moved in with Rika, and he’d only had spare moments to even think about the Kalleran who’d saved his life. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard word that there was a blind human kid living out on the outskirts of the city. Just decided to see if the rumors were true.”

“I guess they are. I don’t know of any other blind human kids out here,” he said in reply as he veered off the trail and into a small meadow he sometimes used to meditate, since it was near Rika’s hut but still out of the way. He led them to a large fallen tree where he sat, dropping his finds of the day on the ground as Kasmir took a seat next to him. “I moved in with Rika, the blind woman, about a month and a half ago. Figured I could learn about how to get around blind from her, you know?”

Kasmir nodded, appearing impressed with Caleb’s decision. He decided to keep Rika’s Miraluka background a secret. Kasmir may know about him being a Jedi, but that didn’t mean he should be privy to the secrets of others. Not that he thought Kasmir would want to know in the first place.

“I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” Kasmir said with a smirk. “Cheena had no idea where you’d dropped off. She thought you’d gotten off-world somewhere.”

“I didn’t leave,” Caleb replied with a light shrug. “I just moved. Figured Cheena didn’t want me around anymore.”

“Kid, you can’t even imagine the bickering she sent my way while you stayed there.” The Kalleran reached into a small sack he’d brought with him before pulling out a ripe meiloorun. Kasmir deftly cut off a slice of the melon and handed it to Caleb. “You did me a favor.”

“I’m sure,” Caleb replied with a snort as he bit into the sweet flesh of the fruit, and he wasn’t sure if he was faking sympathy or not. Cheena was like that. She was good at what she did, and if you went to her you knew you’d get good results, but the price was going to be steep in some way. Caleb really might have done Kasmir a favor.

“I also see you’re getting around pretty well,” Kasmir commented. “I saw what you did back on the streets earlier. Smooth kid. Smoother than I gave you credit for. Especially being blind and all.”

Earlier he’d noticed a rude Rodian and his equally rude crew harass a kind female Kalleran shopkeeper he knew. Said Rodian and crew later found that their speeders failed to work, given that Caleb had removed their power converters, which now rested on the ground beside him. They sold for a decent amount of credits, if you knew the right guy. Or girl, as the case was.

The kid lifted an eyebrow as he looked at the Kalleran with his eerie, milk-blind eyes. “I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s incredible what I can get away with when everyone thinks I’m blind.”

Kasmir’s chuckle was warm and perhaps a bit too thoughtful. “I bet.”

Companionable quiet surrounded them as they both finished off the rest of their fruit, and as Caleb was licking his fingers of the juice the Kalleran asked softly, “How are you adjusting? Still holding on to your old ways?”

“Aww, you care!” Caleb teased with a wide smile. “I’d have thought that would be the last thing you wanted to know.”

Kasmir scowled at him as he threw the rinds of the meiloorun over his shoulder, deep into the forest. “Just a little curious, since I saved your life and all. Forget I asked. I’m not that curious.”

Caleb snorted at the man’s quick retreat before he gave the Kalleran a small smile as he looked down at his hands. It was strange. In the Force, he could see them, like a shining outline. Everything shined gently with the light of the Force. But he couldn’t remember the exact shade of color of his skin, not anymore. He knew it, the way he might know the answer to a math problem, but he couldn’t experience that color anymore. It only existed in his memories now.

“I’m adjusting,” he admitted softly. “Slowly, I guess. The first month out of the tank was hard … but I think I’ve gotten used to it.” Caleb paused, looking up to give Kasmir a small smirk. “You were right. Lie, cheat, steal, survive. I’ve had to do all of those.”

“It’s how I’ve managed to make it to my ripe old age,” Kasmir agreed approvingly.

“You’re admitting you’re old?”

“Given the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire?” Kasmir questioned blandly. “Mean age for a male Kalleran is in their teens now. Ten standard years ago I’d be considered in my prime. Now I’m ancient.”

Caleb looked away, frowning as thoughts of the Clone Wars and the new Empire surfaced. He tried hard to ignore the presence of both in his life, tried to make them distant and axillary. Usually he could. Sometimes, like when there was a random patrol near the hut, or when there was a checkpoint, there was no ignoring it, but usually … usually he could.

It was hard now, though, given that this was the only person in the entire galaxy who knew him before. He’d told Rika some, but she hadn’t been there to see his master. She hadn’t been there to see the mess the clones had left behind. She hadn’t been there to break the news to him that his entire life had been destroyed.

But Kasmir had. And he found that he was also the one person in the whole galaxy he couldn’t stop trusting because of it.

“So you’re doing all right, Caleb?”

Caleb blinked at the sound of his name, strange and foreign coming from anyone other than Rika, and even that was a rare occurrence. “I thought you weren’t going to use my name.”

“Figured it was the only way to get you out of that thick head of yours,” Kasmir said with a grin as he lightly smacked the back of said head. Caleb scowled as he rubbed the spot.

“Well, it was you who told me not to use it,” Caleb said grudgingly, but after a moment of pointed glaring, he sighed and sat back on his hands to look up at the sky. Dusk was coming. He could feel it in the temperature of the forest around them. About now the stars should be coming out, and the moons.

That was one thing he missed and wasn’t good at. He couldn’t make out the sky very well. Rika assured him that with practice he’d be able to see it again, better than he ever had when his eyes worked, but right now all he saw were the tops of the trees, a few birds and insects, and then nothing but the thick, opaque blackness of the blind. He missed the stars. He missed seeing moons. He missed suns.

Caleb thought for a moment as he looked up into the darkness, before he looked at the Kalleran and gave him a small, maybe even content, smile.

“Yeah. I think I’m doing all right,” he said before he snorted and added, “Not that you care, of course.”

“Who’d care about a scrawny runt like you?” Kasmir agreed, but he’d also sat back on his hands to look up at the sky, a smile tugging at his lips, and Caleb couldn’t help it.

“Could you tell me what you see?” he asked softly. “The sky, I mean. There’s a lot I can see, but I can’t quite make out the sky yet.”

Kasmir looked at him curiously, an eyebrow lifting, but Caleb didn’t let his blind eyes rest on the Kalleran, even if his attention did. Instead he kept his eyes turned up to the blank sky, hoping and imagining and remembering.

“Sun’s setting,” Kasmir finally said, his voice soft in the evening glade around them. “The first few stars have just come out.”

“Where are they?” Caleb asked just as softly. “Where’s the brightest one?”

Kasmir lifted an arm and pointed with one of his three fingers.

“There.” His arm shifted in another direction, and Caleb looked at the new spot, curious about what it was the Kalleran was pointing out. “That’s our second moon. This time of the year it’s always the first to rise, even though it’s the largest. The other two won’t come out until later tonight.”

The Kalleran continued to tell him about the sky and what it looked like, what the colors were as they bled into one another before fading into inky blue, and in Caleb’s mind, in his imagination, he could see it, all of it. He knew it was embellished by all the memories he’d collected of the night sky across the galaxy, on all the planets he’d visited. He knew his imagination paled in comparison to seeing the real thing … but it was all right. With Kasmir’s help he imagined something almost real, and he valued the fabrication as much as he valued the real thing.

He was quietly thankful to Kasmir for painting the sky for him, the first sky he had experienced in almost half a year.

When Kasmir left, he left with a smirk and a wave, one which Caleb returned as he headed for Rika’s hut again, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, and so soon after the last one! I’m going to level with you. These chapters were already written months ago. All of the Origins chapters are already written, so I’ve got a lot more leeway with getting them out than with the main story (which I’m writing as I go). That being said, a double update isn’t going to happen too often. We’re going back to single chapter updates for a few weeks now. I just didn’t want to lose momentum on the main story.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. It’s very lighthearted and a real breather after everything that’s happened so far (and it contains one of my favorite scenes in the story :] ). Also wanted to mention that Rika is another character I made up, but I hope you like her. Figured that Caleb deserved a gentle hand to guide him in his new skills/life.
> 
> Now, enough of Caleb (for the time being). Who’s interested in what’s going on with Ezra and the Ghost Crew?


	8. The Ghost Crew

Ezra breathed through his nose as he focused his mind, tuning himself with the Force.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been separated from Kanan over the years, but it had never been under circumstances like the ones they’d left behind on Garel. Doing his best to emulate his master, he tugged and prodded at the Force, trying to get it to tell him what he wanted to know.

The bond between them wasn’t broken, so he was sure that Kanan was alive, and given the way the  _Kasmiri_  had been flying before the  _Ghost_  had made the jump to hyperspace made him sure that he and that Twi’lek had gotten away. He wanted the Force to hint to him just where his master was right now, but Ezra frowned when it hung around him, lank and unresponsive. He pressed his fingers into his brow and tried to massage the tension away.

What was he going to do now?

“Hey, I brought you some water. If that’s something you drink.”

Ezra lifted his eyes to the Lasat who dropped a cup onto the table in front of him. This was the first time in the hours since they’d escaped that either Zeb or Sabine had spoken to him, and distrust and suspicion rolled off the large alien in waves so strong, Ezra wondered if even a non-Force user could feel them. But then, Ezra didn’t need the Force to tell him any of that. It was clear from the Lasat’s body language alone, and the sharp lift of his purple bearded chin, that he didn’t trust Ezra, nor did he want him here.

Ezra wondered if Zeb realized he didn’t even want to be here in the first place.

“Thanks,” Ezra muttered, careful not to give anything away. Though he was thirsty he didn’t trust the Lasat or the rest of his crew, and made no move toward the water. Maybe on Garel they had all called some small truce in order to get away from the Empire and the Inquisitors, but that didn’t mean Ezra trusted them not to drug his drink and turn him into the Empire anyway. After all, Ezra knew the bounty on his head. It was an appealing number for anyone. Someone like Vizago would have done it in a heartbeat and slept well at night.

It was part of the reason why he hadn’t removed his half-mask, which concealed the bottom half of his face, or the cloak that hung around his shoulders, though he had lowered the hood. Once he got away, he didn’t want to make it easy for them to find him, just in case.

They stared at each other, the huge alien’s green eyes boring into his blue, and Ezra knew the Lasat was trying to intimidate him. What the Lasat didn’t know was that when you lived with someone like Kanan and you maintained a steady presence on the Empire’s Most Wanted list, simple intimidation tactics like glaring lost their effect quick.

So, in response, Ezra leaned back in his seat, body language open and relaxed as if he wasn’t in any danger — because really, who was he trying to kid? He wasn’t — and watched with satisfaction as the Lasat’s face twitched with annoyance. Those green eyes narrowed so much, Ezra wondered if the alien could even see him now.

“So you’re the Rider,” the Lasat said, his Basic edged with an unfamiliar accent which, admittedly, made him sound a touch more dangerous, but not that much. Zeb grunted. “You’re punier than I thought you’d be.”

“And you’re stupider than I thought. I guess we’re all surprised.” Ezra couldn’t help the snarky comeback, even though it was probably a bad idea given that he was on their ship, and he had no idea what their plans were. He hardly had any himself, which meant he should be making friends so he could use them and their resources until he could get away. But the Lasat made it so easy. Especially when he glowered like that.

“I think I’m smart enough to know how to operate the airlock,” Zeb growled ominously. “You want to test me? Because I want to test me.”

“Zeb, cut it out. Now’s not the time.”

The feel of a ship docking with theirs abruptly vanished from Ezra’s mind as his attention perked up at the sight of Sabine as she entered the galley. When they’d first met on Kessel, Ezra hadn’t really given her the attention she obviously deserved, not past the message she’d been trying to impart. Since their escape from Garel, however, he’d become keenly aware of his mistake, and he had to admit that she was impressive. Colorful, cool, assertive, rebellious, Ezra wondered who would win in a fair fight between them, if he didn’t use the Force.

Inwardly, Ezra smiled. He might even let her win, just to see what the shine of her eyes in victory looked like.

As it was now, that shine looked hard with a side of troubled, and though he’d have liked to continue admiring her, Ezra wasn’t stupid enough to forget their shared dilemma, nor the fact that someone new had just docked. That Twi’lek with them had been their leader and their captain, and without her they were flying solo, just like he was. In all likelihood they were itching to follow some sort of protocol, protocol that he was probably throwing a wrench in.

Much like they were throwing a wrench in his.

“What is it?” Zeb asked, blatantly ignoring Ezra as if he weren’t a very dangerous threat.

“A … friend of ours hailed us. She’s planning on boarding, and I think it’s probably best if our guest here,” Sabine eyed Ezra, and some part of him thrilled at the attention, suspicious as it was, “was shown to his living quarters.”

“And here I thought you were going to throw me in the brig,” Ezra mused with a smile hidden behind his black half-mask. He made sure his eyes communicated it well enough, though. “I get living quarters. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Can it!” Zeb warned, lifting a hand, and Ezra dared him. He could take the Lasat, no problem. He’d taken down bigger opponents before, though maybe not ones who smelled as bad. Zeb looked away from him back to Sabine.

“What friend?” Zeb asked, brow furrowing for a moment. The Mandalorian gave him a look and an eyebrow raise, one that clearly was supposed to mean something, and the Lasat’s green eyes widened in disbelief. “Our  _friend_?”

Sabine’s lips pulled down and pressed thin as she crossed her arms, but nodded. “Yeah. That friend. Now could you take care of him already?” Zeb was still gaping.

“You’re kidding.”

The Mandalorian’s brown eyes rolled up and she sighed. “I wish I was.”

“I’d like to meet your friend,” Ezra cut in, intensely curious about this evasive and important chatter they were dancing around him with. “You know, because your friend is my friend, and we’re all friends here, right?”

“Wrong,” Sabine said with a chipper smile and bright eyes. “We actually have no idea what you are to us right now, and until we can figure that out, you can stay right where we put you.”

Ezra hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. He’d have done the same in her position. Still, Kanan had trained him to gather information when he could. Better to have taken the chance than not. He kept at it half-heartedly.

“I promise I’ll be good. If you wanted, this friend of yours wouldn’t even know I was there.”

The Mandalorian rolled her eyes again before looking at Zeb.

“Just take care of him,” Sabine said. “Chopper, help him.”

The beat-up astromech that had been watching him from the corner warbled a quick affirmative before its top swiveled to fix him again with its ocular attachment, as if to cow him with its attention. Ezra was not cowed. Not even when the droid started waiving small mechanical arms at him threateningly as Sabine went to meet this ‘friend’ that was boarding.

Theories rose rapid-fire in his mind. Was it another rebellion operative? Or a bounty hunter? It was a possibility that it had all been a ruse, and these guys were really bounty hunters impersonating the rebellion. If they were, he had to know, and he had to get back to Kanan and tell him, before anything happened to his master with that Twi’lek.

Before he could follow, a heavy hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Now, you stay put,” Zeb said with a smirk as he shoved Ezra roughly into a tiny storage closet, locking the door behind him and shrouding him in darkness. “And I don’t want to hear a peep!”

“I thought I was getting living quarters!” Ezra shouted back as he quickly examined his surroundings. In the wall behind him he could feel a small grate, and he grinned in the darkness, even as he kicked the door like a wayward prisoner. “Service here sucks, you know.”

A huge bang filled the air as the Lasat pounded on the other side in warning.

“Will you shut up? How is it that no one’s figured out that the biggest thing about the Rider is the fact that he can’t keep his mouth shut?”

In the darkness, Ezra’s grin grew wider. It was a question Kanan frequently asked as well, but ask and thou shall receive. Whoever said the Rider wasn’t a nice guy? If Zeb didn’t want to hear a peep from him, he could accommodate.

Zeb would just have to find out the hard way that he wouldn’t like that either.

Ezra kicked the door again for effect before he set his deft fingers to work. When he’d first boarded, the crew had insisted at blaster-point that he disarm himself. And as a show of good faith, he had, for the most part. He’d lent them his lightsaber pistol and his sidearm — while carefully noting where they’d both been stashed — but that’s all he’d given up. They hadn’t thought to ask for anything else from the infamous Rider, and in the dark he found the appropriate tool hidden on his belt and unscrewed the grate. It shifted out of his way soundlessly, and Ezra pushed his head through the hole to check. Just as he thought, it was a ventilation system, and wouldn’t you know it? It was just his size.

“Later, hairless Wookiee,” Ezra muttered to himself as he shimmied into the tiny space and began to move.

Locating Sabine and her visitor was an easy thing, once he took a second to feel for her Force signature. Now that he was more familiar with this small crew, he could tell the Lasat and the Mandalorian apart easily. Zeb’s presence was rough and overbearing, but Sabine’s was sharp and attractive, like a star. Oriented, he did his best not to bump around and cause too much of a racket — impossible even with Kanan’s training, given the tiny space. But no alerts sounded, and through the Force he could sense that Zeb and Chopper were still standing guard outside his makeshift ‘living quarters’. Or at least, Zeb was busy making a cup of caf and that droid was chittering in a way that made the Lasat groan, for whatever reason. Not that it mattered to Ezra in the slightest.

He needed to know what was going on, and Sabine seemed to be the one in charge, making her also the one with the answers.

As Ezra made his way toward the nova radiance of Sabine’s Force signature, he crept slower, then proceeded with greater caution because the person who was with her … the ‘friend’s’ Force presence was different. Particular and strong, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but this person’s feel in the Force … it was aware.

Ezra distrusted it instantly.

When he was close enough that he could hear their voices as they spoke in quiet tones, it was clear that this female visitor was one Sabine answered to. Through the grate and with the help of a chance ray of light, Ezra was able to peek into the cockpit of the  _Ghost_ , and could just make out the armguard of Sabine’s colorful armor. The silhouette of the guest was shrouded in a robe and her face remained deeply shadowed.

“Where is Hera?” the shrouded woman asked from the depths of her hood, and Ezra watched as Sabine shifted slightly.

“Busy, at the moment. But I can relay a message to her.”

“She is not here? It was my understanding that your most recent mission was supposed to have been simple, which is why I chose to come now. Did something happen?”

The tone in her voice was a familiar one to Ezra. Probing. Enticing. It actually reminded him of Kanan, in a way.

“Just a complication that she’s taking care of right now,” Sabine replied. “Zeb and I would be more than happy to help you with whatever you need.”

The hooded figure didn’t bite, and instead her next question was pointed and undeterred.

“Complication?”

Sabine shifted again, and Ezra wondered if the ‘complication’ the Mandalorian was referring to was now busy turning his hair gray looking for Ezra, and causing grief for this Hera somewhere in the far reaches of space.

The woman in the robe waited, silent and still, and Ezra froze when something in the Force flickered, and that dark hood eerily turned in his direction. Blue eyes flashed in those depths.

“You should come out. It is impolite to eavesdrop.”

Hands lifted to pull the hood of her robe down and a Togruta woman stared at him as if she’d known where he’d been all along. Surprise flared like the first shock of ice water through his blood, and it was only instinct and the phantom of Kanan’s voice in his mind which told him to control his emotions and maintain his concealment in the Force.

Sabine’s hand twitched for her nearest blaster but Ezra figured it was better that he just come out now and see what was going on for himself, rather than stay in the vents and risk getting shot. Under their watchful eyes, he pushed the vent’s grate out with a shove and slid out, pulling his hood up as he went. But he sensed that the robed woman knew exactly who he was, and her lips curled with a hint of a smile.

“The infamous Rider,” the Togruta said pleasantly. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

For an instant he considered remaining silent, as Kanan would have done. But he wasn’t Kanan, and he thought better of it.

“I might say the same, if I knew who you were,” Ezra replied, focusing on keeping his cool, even as he prepared to make things up as he went. The woman didn’t retaliate, and that small smile didn’t waver either.

“You may call me Fulcrum,” Fulcrum told him. “I work with the crew of this ship.”

“You’re with the rebellion,” Ezra chanced, and though neither of the women across from him made any indication that he was right, he sensed he was. “Was it you who sent them after me and Reaper?”

Sabine flicked her eyes at the Togruta, and Fulcrum nodded.

“Yes. You are correct.”

“Why?”

It had been the question that had eaten at him ever since Sabine first made contact. Why was the rebellion attempting to get in contact with them and extend an offer to join? Sure, they and the rebellion both strove to be the pointiest thorns in the Empire’s side, but they did it in very different ways, and Kanan’s way was not the rebellions. Not by a long shot. They had to know that by now.

And yet the rebellion was still trying.

“As I am sure this crew has told you, we would like to extend an invitation to you and your partner to join the rebellion,” Fulcrum said in that same calm Ezra had only ever experienced with Kanan. “What we’re willing to offer is mutual support. We both wish to bring down the Empire and we both have skill sets which would be beneficial to the other.”

Ezra snorted. “We get along just fine on our own.”

Fulcrum’s blue eyes brightened, though her face remained unchanged. “But how long do you think it will be before the Empire finally finds you and puts an end to your work? We could provide you support.”

Memories of the Inquisitor’s red lightsaber flashed through his mind, and he was well aware that without the aid of the  _Ghost_  crew, he and Kanan might not have gotten away like they had earlier today, thus proving this woman’s point. But Ezra banished those thoughts for the time being.

“Only so long as we do what you want us to do,” Ezra pointed out. “I doubt you’d let us carry on like we have been. I get the feeling that if we agreed, you’ll get this idea that you can tell us what to do. That’s a bad assumption.”

Fulcrum’s countenance changed to one of gentle agreement.

“Perhaps. Your current mission objectives center around the assassination of Imperials,” Fulcrum said. “The rebellion is a cause devoted to the liberation of the galaxy from the Empire, not a vehicle for vengeance. It is likely that we’d ask you to repurpose your skills.”

Ezra didn’t know how he kept his face impassive when inside there was nothing but uproarious laughter. They wanted Kanan to stop the assassinations? They’d sooner catch the Emperor vacationing on Takodana in Maz’s cantina than make him stop.

The reality of that thought, however, was sobering, and it was the only reason why Ezra kept listening.

“The rebellion as a symbol of good. Something to fight against the Empire, to give everyone in the galaxy something to believe in,” Fulcrum continued. “Cold assassinations do not always instill the correct image, and if our cause is to grow, it must grow with care.”

Personally, Ezra agreed, and quietly he liked the idea of partnering with the rebellion, but for a selfish reason. If the rebellion really did want them to join, but only if they’d stop with the assassinations, then that would mean Kanan would have to stop if they agreed. He’d have to give up his mask and put down that damned scythe and do something else,  _be_ something else. Something like what Kanan was always trying to teach Ezra to be. Something better, and good. If the rebellion could do that, maybe it could help him save Kanan from the darkness that was buried deep in his heart. Set him free from his demons.

For his master, his mentor, his surrogate father, and as a Jedi … he couldn’t help but want that. For longer than Ezra would ever admit to Kanan, the one Ezra most wanted to save in the galaxy was Kanan himself.

“How do I know you are who you say you are?” Ezra said slowly. “That you work for the rebellion, and that this isn’t some trick?”

“You do not,” Fulcrum admitted. “But I am willing to prove it to you and your partner. Is he here? Or is there a way can you get in contact with him?”

Ezra’s eyes flashed over to Sabine’s, and the Togruta lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Sabine’s lips pressed thin.

“There was a trap set for the Reaper and Rider on Garel. We managed to escape, but to do it we had to split up. The Rider came with us, and Hera had to go with the Reaper. We think they got away, but there’s been no communication, and they could be anywhere right now.” Sabine ended the sentence with a pointed look at Ezra, and Ezra shrugged.

“I don’t know where Reaper would have gone.” Quietly he knew that finding the answer to that question would be easy enough. It was their protocol that if they lost track of each other, they would go to Takodana and get a message to each other through Maz. But there was no way he was going there with present company. He’d either have to find some alternative way to get in contact with Kanan and Proxy, or escape so he could find them himself without being followed.

“Will the Reaper hurt Hera?” Fulcrum asked, and Ezra blinked in surprise.

“Not unless she tries to kill him.” A touch of anger stroked his heart. “Reaper isn’t needlessly cruel. He won’t hurt her. He’ll just keep her out of his way.”

“I meant no offence,” Fulcrum said calmly. “I ask simply because what we know about the Reaper suggests a certain meticulous nature. He often leaves no loose ends.”

Well, Ezra couldn’t argue with that, but he was confident regardless. Kanan was his master. Besides, he wasn’t always the Reaper, even if it sometimes felt like he might prefer to be, nowadays.

Fulcrum looked at Sabine. “When are you supposed to rendezvous with her?”

“In a week’s time, if she can get away. Or if the Reaper lets her go.” Sabine looked at Ezra inquiringly and he shrugged again.

“I think he’ll let her go eventually. If I can get a message to him, I’m sure he’ll show up with her wherever you’re supposed to meet up.”

“Well isn’t that a relief to hear.”

Zeb stepped through the doorway with a deep scowl on his face as he glared at Ezra, and behind him the astromech gurgled in agitation. Ezra almost grinned, at least until the mechanical surged forward and began whipping his small metal arms at his legs to chastise him. Seemed they’d figured out he wasn’t still in his ‘living quarters’.

“Glad you could make it,” Ezra said as he stepped away from Chopper toward Sabine. “I was wondering when you were going to show up. What took you so long?”

Zeb glowered, and lifted his huge hand to his bo-rifle threateningly. “Keep going. I’ll make sure you’ll never ride anything again when I’m done with you.”

“Did you have any missions planned until the rendezvous?” Fulcrum cut in smoothly, ignoring their banter while she addressed Sabine. Sabine shook her head, appearing equally uninterested in the boys and their antics.

“No. Depending on what happened on Garel, we were going to prepared for our next stakeout. Our current plan was to meet with Hera, and use the Rider to lure out the Reaper.”

Ezra gave Sabine a bland look. “You know, I’m right here.”

“There is a lot of time between now and when you see Hera again,” Fulcrum muttered. “I had originally come to ask you to complete a mission, one of great importance. It is something that cannot wait, and your crew is closest and best equipped to carry it out.” The Togruta lifted her eyes to Ezra. “Would you be willing to stay with this crew for the time being, and help them? Before you go back to your partner?”

Behind Ezra’s half-mask, his jaw dropped.

“You want me to stay and  _help_  them?”

“No way!” Zeb said with the same sort of enthusiasm. “We can get along just fine on our own, whatever it is. We don’t need him.”

Fulcrum shook her head, and coming from her, the fight in the Lasat cooled. She looked back to Ezra.

“If you believe that your partner and Hera are in no danger, then perhaps you might consider offering some assistance? There are many people who could benefit from your help.”

“You know, manipulation isn’t the way to make friends,” Ezra pointed out as he eyed the Togruta warily. He knew what was going on. One mission was a taste, which might lead to another, and if things worked right, Fulcrum might not need to recruit him at all. He might volunteer on his own. Fulcrum smiled.

“It is your choice, Rider. I only ask for your help if you are willing to spare it.”

He shouldn’t. Kanan wouldn’t, and he’d probably scold Ezra for even considering it, but Kanan wasn’t here. It was probably going to be a few days before his message would get to his master, and that was too long. A decision needed to be made, and Ezra was supposed to be a Jedi, wasn’t he? Do what he could to help people. How could he say no to this, especially when he had the skills and the time?

“If I did have the time to spare,” he said slowly, “what’s the mission?”

“The Empire has taken several civilian sympathizers prisoner on a moon not far from here. The mission would be to free those prisoners and get them to safety. I have all the mission details you and the  _Ghost_  crew will need here.” She produced a small datacube from under her cloak. “Given your prestige, and this crew’s skill, I do not think the assignment will be difficult.”

This was a bad idea, and he knew better than to trust her. But this was a rescue operation and he was a Jedi. This sort of thing was exactly what Kanan had spent the last eight years training him for. There were people in the galaxy the Empire was terrorizing, and he could stop it. He could help them. This was his chance.

And maybe, while he was at it, he could gather more information about the rebellion, and these rebels. If all of this was real, he might be able to make a case to Kanan. This really might help him off the Reaper’s path of death. It was an opportunity he couldn’t ignore.

He just hoped Kanan would see it his way.

“I guess I could spare a hand,” Ezra finally said. “Just this once.”

“Of course,” Fulcrum replied easily. “Just this once.”

“And then I’m gone.”

“If that is what you wish. I do not believe you are a prisoner here, Rider.” Fulcrum lifted an eyebrow to the  _Ghost_ crew, and though Zeb huffed and looked away, Sabine at least shrugged.

“He hasn’t attacked us. I guess there’s no reason to throw him back in our brig for nothing.”

“Yet,” Zeb grumbled, and the Togruta woman smirked before she returned her gaze to Ezra.

“Then on behalf of the rebellion, I thank you for your assistance.”

“Yeah. No problem.” Ezra lifted his gloved hand, and Fulcrum place the datacube in his palm.

Fulcrum spoke with Sabine again, but Ezra only listened with half an ear as he scanned the information held in the datacube. In it were schematics, a haphazard collection of rebellion data concerning the number of hostages and the potential threat level the Imperials there posed.

Fulcrum bid them good luck before she left, and soon Sabine had plucked the datacube from his hands so she could examine the data within as well. They all crowded around the holoprojection Chopper provided, and crammed between the droid and Sabine, Ezra was taken by how strange this was. Usually it was Kanan and Proxy crowding him, but not this time. He was with other people, new people, and he was actually working a mission without Kanan, for once.

It felt odd because Kanan was his partner, and they were a team. But at the same time … there was no denying how liberating this felt. How new and exciting this seemed.

“I think I’ve got something,” Sabine muttered as she shifted the holoprojection around for a different perspective. “The hard part will be breaking through the Imperial ranks and keeping their attention in one place long enough. I could distract them with explosives for a while, so that you, Chopper, and Rider can rescue the prisoners—”

“But you have to admit, that’s a lot of Imperial support centered in one place,” Zeb countered. “If two of us could handle the distraction, it would be fine, but I’m not letting you do it by yourself. If anything happens to us while Hera’s away, there will be hell to pay.”

“That’s why we’ll be careful,” Sabine responded. “I can handle it.”

“I’m kinda with the big guy on this one,” Ezra said, surprising everyone, himself included. “That’s a lot of Imperial force for one person to deal with. Not that I don’t think you couldn’t do it.” Sabine’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “All I’m saying, Sabine, is that it would be safer there with someone else to help as well. Zeb’s right.”

“I can’t believe we’re agreeing on something,” Zeb grumbled.

“Well, we don’t exactly have anyone else available,” she said with agitation. “Not unless you can magically double yourself, or something.”

“Can you?” Zeb questioned, and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“I’m the Rider, not the Copycat or whatever codename something like that might create,” Ezra retorted. “But if it’s help we need, I think I know where to find some. You might not like it though.”

Zeb looked at him suspiciously. “We’re not looking to affiliate ourselves with bounty hunters.”

“Not bounty hunters,” Ezra shot back. “I know someone better. We’ll have all the help we’ll need. Besides,” Ezra said with a grin about his eyes he could sense in the Force they didn’t like. “We’re all on the same team right now. You’re going to have to learn to trust me.”

“We don’t have to learn to do anything, especially from someone who’s still wearing a mask,” Zeb protested, and Sabine frowned.

“No, Zeb. He’s right. Fulcrum trusted him enough to ask for his help with the mission, and right now we need whatever help he can give.”

“And if he decides to stab us in the back?”

“Really, again? I’m right here. Not even three feet away. I have ears.”

The Lasat ignored Ezra, and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Look,” Ezra said, “we’re going to need to work together on this, and the most obvious problem we have right now is that we don’t have the manpower to make it safely through their defenses. I can help with that.”

“What do you have in mind?” Sabine asked slowly, willing to roll with this wherever it might lead, and Ezra stood and moved to the cockpit. He gestured to the navigation system and, though they clearly didn’t like it, Sabine took a breath and nodded. Ezra began plotting a course through space.

“Just trust me. That’s how this trust thing works.”

Zeb clearly didn’t agree, but Sabine slipped into the pilot’s seat, eyes weary and still on board for the time being.

“Where are we going?” Sabine asked as she manipulated the controls in the pilot’s seat as Ezra took the copilot’s position. The tiniest curl of excitement lifted in his chest. Oh, Kanan would never let him do this, but the plan would work out so smoothly. He couldn’t resist.

Besides. Rosie was probably missing him by now.

“Cholganna,” Ezra replied as he locked the coordinates. “There’s someone I need to pick up there.”

“Cholganna?” Sabine echoed, and Ezra watched her quick intellect flash across her eyes before they widened in comprehension. “Your nexu?”

Ezra smiled and made the jump to lightspeed for her.

* * *

 

“You’re kidding me,” Zeb said with alert eyes and his bo-rifle raised at the ready as he, Sabine, and their pint-sized ‘associate’ stepped down from the  _Ghost’s_  ramp. This was stupid. Had everyone lost their  _minds_? They were on Cholganna, a planet infested with all manner of deadly forest creatures widely known across the galaxy to rip and tear and consume in the most vicious manners possible.

And what was worse was that they were here for one of those deadly beasts.

“Nope. This is where we keep Rosie when we don’t need her,” Rider said with a brightness to his masked voice, as if they were just picking up a tooka and not a raging nexu. “She can roam free here, until then. She’s still growing, after all. Time with other nexu is good for her development.”

“You named a nexu, Rosie?” Zeb scoffed, wondering if he’d been slipped something which had turned his world in a strange and impossible direction. “What kind of name is that for a pet monster?”

The black half-mask that still rested on the Rider’s lower face hid most of the scowl away, but there was no mistaking it around the eyes. The dark figure crossed his arms and his short, black hair shifted slightly in the wind.

“Rosie isn’t a pet, and she’s not a monster either. And the name is perfect. The hunter I rescued her from as a cub had shoved her into a crate filled with roses to hide her. When I found her, she smelled like roses. So I named her Rosie.”

“I guess it makes some sense,” Sabine said. “Even if it’s a surprisingly normal explanation.” Zeb stared at his colorful crew-mate. Why was she on the Rider’s side? Sabine ignored Zeb’s probing eyes to look at the black-clad punk. “How are you going to find her?”

The Rider’s body language was relaxed and confident, obvious now that he’d taken off that cloak. He looked like he knew something they didn’t, and Zeb wanted to use his bo-rifle to take him down a peg or two.

“She’s already on her way. You’re going to want to stand back, though. She doesn’t really take well to new people, and it’ll take me some time to get her used to you. It would be counter-productive if, you know, she ate you.”

Zeb breathed deep. “That better not have been a threat.”

The Rider shrugged. “Just a helpful warning.”

Their ‘associate’ straightened and turned his head as if he could hear something in this dense forest, and Zeb listened carefully. He couldn’t hear a thing himself, but the Rider lifted a hand to him and Sabine before slowly advancing.

“Rosie,” Rider called coaxingly. “Come out, girl. We have some Imperials to terrorize.”

“Can you believe this?” Zeb whispered to Sabine as she eyed the dark forest around them, her hands inching toward her waiting blasters. Though he saw hesitance and reluctance reflected back in her eyes, he also knew the girl well enough to see that she wasn’t backing down from whatever mess they’d landed themselves in either. “We’re going to be dinner.”

“I don’t know. On Kessel it seemed like he had that nexu under control. Maybe he actually knows what he’s doing?”

Zeb frowned deeply. The Rider and his scythe wielding, Force using partner were both mad. How could the fool before them know anything about anything?

“Shh!” Rider hissed, causing them both to fall silent. It was then that Zeb realized he could hear something rustling in the foliage, deep in the forest’s sheltered darkness. Immediately Zeb raised his weapon in preparation for an attack, his green eyes narrowed, and he was astonished that the Rider wasn’t doing the same. Even Sabine had submitted to her instincts and drawn her blasters, waiting for the inevitable. All that mad little punk was doing was standing there, albeit with knees bent as if prepared, just in case. But his hands were raised and waiting.

Movement in the trees stopped, and the air quieted to nothing more than a hush. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Zeb sure as hell didn’t, but it wouldn’t have mattered because the pound of his heart in his chest more than made of for the silence. The tension was driving him up the wall, and if something didn’t happen soon—

A screaming yowl shredded the air, and Zeb couldn’t help the tiny — really, it was hardly there — jump he made at its suddenness. Swiftly he oriented his bo-rifle just as Sabine aimed her blasters beside him, but the Rider once again lifted a hand to them just as something swung out of the trees and into the clearing in front of them.

A young white nexu, big but still not adult-size, pawed the earth dangerously before the Rider, its multitude of sharp gleaming teeth catching the light as its claws gouged deep slashes in the dirt. Its split tail whipped the air. It took all of Zeb’s control not to shoot that thing on sight before it decided it wanted to make lunch of him and Sabine.

And the Rider was less than five feet from it, an insane, soft look in his blue eyes.

 _He’s going to get eaten_ , Zeb thought to himself simply.  _I knew that punk was out of his mind._

“Hey girl.” Rider turned a hand slowly toward the young nexu where it shifted with coiled energy, as if waiting for an opening. “You miss me?”

He began to advance, and seeing the true extent of his lunacy, Zeb must have caught a touch of it himself because he was suddenly — just a little, again, hardly there at all — concerned for the Rider. This was beyond madness and was just plain stupid. It didn’t matter what he’d seen on Kessel, there was no way. The Rider was going to get eaten the very moment he let his guard down, and—

The nexu purred, and then crouched before rolling onto its back. A paw lifted lazily in the air, and the Rider slowly scratched it under its massive chin. The nexu’s eyes rolled, and that split tail swayed and slammed into the ground heavily in pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” the Rider praised as he crouched beside her and gently took the nexu’s wide face between his hands. “You’ve gotten bigger.”

The nexu rolled back up again before it pawed at the earth in a manner that screamed ‘play’. Rider shook his head at the beast as if it understood him, before he began inspecting the nexu’s quills. He spoke to it like he might anyone else.

“These are my friends,” Rider told the nexu as he plucked at a quill or two and removed a collection of leaves that had made their homes between them. “Don’t eat them.”

Again the nexu purred and Zeb just stared. This punk was treating a nexu as if it couldn’t bite off his head with no effort at all.

“You know, it’s kind of cute,” Sabine admitted slowly as she watched the display with half a smirk on her lips, lowering her blasters. Zeb stared at her in disbelief before he shook his head and holstered his bo-rifle, finished with this madness.

“I’ll be in the ship. Scream if you need anything.”

“If you want, I can introduce you,” the Rider called over his shoulder, once again scratching the monster under the chin. Zeb didn’t even bother to shake his head.

“Knock yourselves out.”

Zeb turned and walked past Sabine as she neared the young beast. It growled low in its throat, so low Zeb could feel it through the ground and he almost stopped and turned to take his usually level-headed crew-mate back inside with him; leave this crazy fool here alone with his monster pet. Everything could go back to the way things were, then.

But then the nexu did the damnedest thing. It purred again, and Zeb huffed in retaliation as Sabine stood next to the Rider, excitement in her eyes. Looked like they wouldn’t be abandoning the Rider here, after all.

From within the safety of the  _Ghost_ , he passed AP-5.

“I know I’m an old droid with outdated programming,” AP-5 muttered as he observed the monitor where the Rider was still treating that monster as if it were a big cat, and inviting Sabine to touch it. The girl slowly approached, and smiled at it when it didn’t rip her in half. AP-5 turned his head up to Zeb. “But I believe that is not common behavior for the nexu breed of beast. It’s most peculiar.”

Zeb stared at the tinman, and wondered when the only other sentience he could relate to had started being this mouthy protocol droid.

“Just let me know when we’re ready to go.”

That being said, Zeb entered his cabin, shut his door, and waited to see when the rest of the galaxy would come back to its senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much waiting, here it is! The Ezra-Ghost crew chapter. I know a lot of you were very interested in the Ezra-Ghost crew encounter, and I hope you’re excited for their mission together when we get back to them. One of the unresolved questions I had going into this fic was if I was going to have a side of Sabezra or not. I’ve personally never been too sure of the pairing, but as far as Blackbird is concerned, it’s looking like the chemistry might be there, so we’ll all get to see how that pans out, if it pans out. What do you all think? 
> 
> On a separate note, I’m going to aim for weekly updates, hopefully on Fridays now. Again, I’m sorry for the three month break between the first movement and the second one we’ve just gotten into, but don’t worry. Even if I might need to have breaks between posts in the future, I have the entire story already outlined, and over half of the remaining chapters have finished first drafts. Just need to sit down and hammer out the rest of them. The story will be completed. A special thank you to those who have reviewed/given kudos! Your kind words, interest, and encouragement help a lot :] 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought about this chapter. The next chapter is back with Hera and Kanan. I bet you can just imagine how well they’re getting along right now, huh?


	9. The Shade

Hera’s hands pressed into her brow, just at the base of her lekku, as she sat on one of the long wooden benches. It had been some time since Kanan left her alone in this massive chamber with Proxy, and frankly, Hera was thankful for the distance. The vast solitude, interrupted only by the movement of Proxy as he conducted whatever business he was doing across the room, gave her time to start decompressing, to process everything that had happened in the last day.

Thinking about the abrupt complexity made her press her fingers deeper into the crown of her head. Apprehension rolled through her, like it had every time she attempted to contemplate the situation she was in. This wasn’t how she’d expected her day to go when she’d woken up this morning. All she’d hoped for was a chance to speak with Kanan, to set up a meeting and talk about what she and the greater rebellion had to offer. It was all she’d ever really hoped would happen when she and her crew had begun the stakeouts. But Garel had turned into a nightmare situation she’d never anticipated. There weren’t supposed to be Red Blades. She wasn’t supposed to be separated from her crew, and they weren’t supposed to be sharing space with a dangerous vigilante of their own, just like she was right now.

Kanan wasn’t supposed to be blind.

Hera’s stomach tightened and she clenched her eyes as that little fact slammed into her again. Kanan. Blind Kanan. Blind Kanan who fought Inquisitors, shot TIEs from the air, and who she’d stupidly let  _fly her around_. For the first time in her life she was glad to have her feet on the ground, but although her body was safe and stable, her mind wasn’t. Kanan was blind, but how was that even possible? How did he get around like he did? How did he fight like he did? And how in hell had he flown? Was it the Force? It had to be, but though she’d heard some unbelievable stories about the Jedi, this was beyond belief.

And most of all, what did he mean by ‘nothing happened’?

She just … couldn’t wrap her head around it. It was like she was still falling through the sky on Garel, only this time Kanan’s hold felt like something terrifying and unknowable, and she didn’t know if he was dragging her down or about to save her.

Mechanical footsteps jarred her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Proxy approaching. She straightened and composed her face, and wondered what the cordial droid was about to tell her.

“If you would follow me, Captain Syndulla,” Proxy said politely. “Kanan has asked me to show you to your room.”

“Is it a cell?” Hera couldn’t help the suspicion, unsure what to expect now that everything she’d thought she’d known about the mysterious Kanan Jarrus were turning out to be wrong or a fabrication. After everything, she wasn’t sure she’d be surprised if he decided that he wanted her in a cell. He might even have plans to kill her, for all she knew, despite what he’d said earlier.

The droid tilted his head to the side in confusion before he shook it quickly, as if he’d realized her implications. His violet energy lines brightened and his photoreceptors flashed.

“Oh, no! We only have barracks rooms available. If you’d like, I could attempt to find a cell. Is that preferable?” The droid looked around uneasily. “I’m not sure we have a cell, but I could always ask Kanan. I’m sure he would know—”

The earnest tone in Proxy’s voice made Hera cut him off before he got any more worked up.

“No, I don’t find a cell preferable.” Unable to help herself, she smiled at the droid. “I just wasn’t sure how you treated … prisoners.” Hera stood and Proxy relaxed, ready to show her the way.

“Truthfully, Captain Syndulla, I do not believe you’re a prisoner.”

Hera lifted an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to come and go wherever I want, whenever I want?”

“Well … no,” Proxy admitted. “But there’s nothing outside anyway. Just uninhabited plains.”

“Even so, I think that still means I’m confined to … wherever this place is.” She gestured to the elaborate stonework around them.

“But I believe you have free movement within the barracks,” Proxy pointed out as a highlight, before he led her out of the large room. “But I would advise you to stay either in your room, the main atrium, or the baths should you desire cleaning. If you are hungry or require drink, please ask me and I will assist you.”

Hera’s brow furrowed. The droid almost made it sound like she was here at some remote bed and breakfast, and not the home of a notorious assassin. Was there a reason for it? Did Kanan have an angle?

“Where’s Kanan?”

“I suspect he’s in his room, meditating,” Proxy said. “It’s a practice he engages in after stressful missions. It’s only a guess, but I suspect the events concerning today’s mission might have been labeled ‘stressful’.”

That was an understatement. Hera sighed. “Well, I don’t disagree. I wasn’t exactly expecting what we found there any more than he was.”

They went through the doorway Kanan had vanished into earlier and turned right, and she saw a line of doors along both sides of the corridor, with another doorway at the far end. All the doors were closed and unassuming. When she looked left, she saw nothing but darkness.

“What’s that way?”

“Nothing really,” Proxy replied. “A dead end. There’s a large sealed door, but I’ve never seen Kanan or Rider use it. Most of the time, I think everyone forgets it’s even there.”

Proxy lead her past several of the doors in the right passage before indicating one in particular, one she cautiously peered into. A simple bed rested against the wall, along with a small dresser, an equally small desk and chair, a strange mat on the floor, and little else. Sparse was the word that came to her mind, but it did look serviceable and clean.

“This will be your room while you’re here,” Proxy told her as he lifted an arm to indicate she could enter if she wanted to. “If you will wait here, I’ll be just a moment with some bedding. But if you’d prefer, the baths are at the end of the hall. Kanan and Rider have expressed on multiple occasions that they are quite relieving.”

Scanning the small room, she decided she wasn’t quite ready to go in yet. If she went in and she closed the door, some small part of her was certain that when she next checked, it would be locked. The last thing she felt like doing right now was closing herself in.

“I’ll take a look at the baths, if you don’t mind,” Hera finally replied, stepping away from the room. It would give her an excuse to explore, and get a better look around. Maybe she’d be able to figure out a way to get a message to Sabine, or, if Kanan went back on his word, a way to escape.

“By all means,” Proxy replied pleasantly. “Please take your time.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile as Proxy left. It surprised her that Kanan would keep such an amiable droid around, given his mercurial nature. Hera wondered what his droid could do, if that was the case. Though he might be a protocol droid, she wasn’t too sure Proxy was one. What would Kanan need a protocol droid for? It didn’t make sense.

Following the droid’s directions, Hera strode to the end of the hall, documenting everything. The other doors she passed were more barracks rooms, identical to her own, and they all carried the same sort of dusty smell which told her that they hadn’t been used in some time. The entire complex felt ancient and ominous, from another age, and she wondered what it had once been. The immense quiet made it feel empty, lonely, and she wondered if it was just Kanan, Proxy, and the mysterious Rider who stayed here in this massive place.

Hera wondered if she was the first outsider to have ever seen it, whatever and wherever it was.

As she drifted, she noticed two doors which seemed particularly used, judging by the cleaner patches of floors, and she could guess who’s they were. Unable to help it, she crept by them as if they hid away sleeping beasts. She wasn’t ready to face Kanan yet, and for the time being if he was going to leave her alone, she was willing to repay the gesture. Although Proxy insisted she had a certain amount of freedom here, she couldn’t guess Kanan’s behavior well enough right now to know how likely it was that he might change his mind, if she became too nosy too soon. Better not to step on his toes until she could put together a clearer picture.

For now.

Warmth and moisture grew thick in the air now that she’d passed into the baths, and Hera was surprised by what she saw. Truly, she hadn’t actually been expecting baths, not in this old place, and if she were going explicitly by what the term meant, what she found weren’t by definition baths either.

They were hot springs.

The unexpected decadence swept all of Hera’s troubled thoughts away as wafts of steam rose from the rock-lined pools of water to caress her cheeks and lekku with warmth. This was the last thing she’d been expecting, considering the bare and orderly design of the rest of the place. Monks might have once lived here, for all she knew.

But if that was the case, those monks at least knew how to relax. There were three different pools, one tiered above the other two, all set against the stone wall at the back of the chamber. Between the two lower pools was a small, modern rack designed to hold clothing and items. Next to it was another small platform where clean towels and a soft gray robe lay folded. In the corner, a small refresher also appeared to be maintained.

The warm steam filled her lungs, and for the first time all day, Hera felt her muscles relax, even against her better judgment. She studied the inviting water, then glanced over her shoulder at the door. Sighing, she massaged her head in thought, then pulled off her flight cap and goggles and refused to second guess her decision. In moments she was undressed with a towel wrapped around her body, and she dipped a foot into the water. It burned, but the burn went away the longer she bore through it. When she was sure the rest of her could handle the heat, she carefully eased herself the rest of the way in. A sigh of relief fell from her lips.

Bliss.

Still, she positioned herself so she could clearly view the entryway, just in case.

No one interrupted her, blind or mechanical, and as the minutes grew longer she found herself settling more deeply into the pool. The heat permeated her body in a way she’d never had the time or opportunity to experience before, and as it radiated around her, her mind eased as well. Incessant thoughts slowed and uncurled and she let them idle as she stared at the stone ceiling above, alight with a smattering of gentle glowstones. The vapor almost caused the air to shine under them.

Hera wondered how Sabine, Zeb, Chop and AP were handling things back on the  _Ghost_. As bad as the situation had gotten, she wasn’t too worried about them. Of the vigilantes, she was sure she was stuck with the more difficult of the two. Rider was the one who’d come to them for help, who’d been willing to make a deal. Her crew could handle themselves without her, and so long as the Rider remained cooperative, she thought it was possible they, at least, might all work together.

And frankly, Hera believed that if push came to shove, her crew was more than capable of forcing the Rider to bring them here, wherever she was, if Kanan refused to work with her. She had a week until she was supposed to meet them. A week of just her and Kanan, alone with a droid in this huge place.

Hera sunk deeper into the water as the thought of a full week alone with him made her stress level rise. She couldn’t get a good read on Kanan. If he’d been the same man she remembered on Gorse, she’d have a better idea, but she wasn’t sure he was the man she remembered. He was standoffish and harsh, but glimpses of that gunslinger she’d known had slipped out. Which was the true Kanan, and which was the protective armor? She wasn’t sure, and since that was the case, she didn’t know if a week was going to be enough for her to figure out how to get him to listen.

The water shifted and splashed in the quiet as she lifted her hands. Her fingers were pruned, and her green skin was turning red. She should probably get out.

After toweling off, she pulled on the soft gray robe on the bench. It smelled warm and familiar, shaking a memory in the back of her mind she couldn’t quite recall, but she pressed the new mystery away like she was with all the other ones in her tired mind. Hera tied the sash about her body and picked up her clothes to head back to her room.

As she passed those used rooms, she wondered which Kanan was in. Relaxed now, she was tempted to find out, but the bath had drawn out her fatigue, and dressed as she was felt like it would send the wrong message. That was the last things she wanted to do, frankly. She’d wait.

In her room, she saw that Proxy had been true to his word. A small pile of bedding lay folded neatly at the end of her bed, and with little else to do, she began setting up for sleep. The bath had been relaxing, just as Proxy had promised, but fatigue was slamming into her hard now. She wanted sleep. She wanted a small break from reality, and though that suspicious operative in her insisted that it wasn’t a smart move, that there was nothing to stop Kanan or Proxy or whatever else might be hidden here from walking in while she was vulnerable and killing her … she didn’t think that would be the case. Kanan had told her when they’d arrived that nothing was going to happen to her. Trust had to be earned, and for now she’d start with that.

It didn’t mean that, after a quick search of her room, she hadn’t found a long iron nail and hadn’t hidden it under her pillow clutched tightly in her hand.

Just in case.

* * *

 

When Hera woke up, she wasn’t exactly sure where she was, but she knew it wasn’t the  _Ghost_. No matter where she was in her ship, night or day, the  _Ghost_  had a certain vibration of life that she’d spent years drawing comfort in. It was like a hum that could put her right to sleep, if she let it. But there was none of that here, and that was what unsettled her. No hum of life. It was just silence. Cold silence, and as she blinked, it turned into cold darkness.

Where was she?

Given that nothing was attacking her or holding her down, Hera sat up and let memories of yesterday trickled into her mind. Gently rubbing her eyes, she stood and activated the glowstone, throwing the small room into detail. She stretched her muscles and documented all of the new aches collected from yesterday, and then she dressed.

Today was a new day and, rested, she had a mission she had to focus on. Somehow she would figure Kanan out so she’d be able to successfully approach him with the rebellion’s offer. But first food. She hadn’t eaten in over a day, and her stomach was about ready to consume itself if she didn’t get something soon. At the door of her room, she took a deep breath in case she found it had been locked sometime in her sleep.

The door opened soundlessly at her insistence and she let the breath go. She hadn’t been locked in. She hadn’t been murdered in her sleep. Her trust, for now, had been validated.

Hera still felt more comfortable with her nail concealed in her boot.

Checking the hall, she saw that the doors which might be hiding Kanan away were closed, but the lights in the main atrium were on and bright, though she couldn’t hear anything. With silent steps, she entered the massive room and was surprised to find it completely empty, the exit and work console completely unguarded. It struck her that right now, if she wanted to, she could leave or get a message out to the  _Ghost_.

But she hadn’t been attacked or killed in her sleep. It was her turn to earn Kanan’s trust.

The kitchen wasn’t very well stocked, but there was a small pile of fresh fruit resting in a bowl on the counter. She couldn’t remember seeing them last night, and she wondered if either Kanan or Proxy had made a run out somewhere for them. As she ate, she took the time to explore the room, since she’d been a bit too distracted last night to do a decent job of it when they’d arrived. What she found was surprisingly standard. Fuel canisters near the exit, tools and parts needed to maintain or repair Kanan’s ship. Weapon cartridges and explosives were aligned along the wall, and an odd assortment of animal handling paraphernalia, mainly a variety of saddles, were hung at the far corner. She assumed they were the property of the Rider.

After finishing her breakfast and fiddling with something Hera couldn’t make heads or tails of on one of the worktables, the scent of hot metal floated by her nose, and alarmed, she looked up. The smell of cooking metal was among the worst smells in Hera’s book, mostly because it was usually the first indication that something on the  _Ghost_  was about to blow. Hera quickly scrutinized the room, looking for smoke and trying to locate the source of the smell, but there was nothing. Everything looked normal and safe in this earthy place. Curiously she lifted the mechanical gizmo in her hands to see if the scent came from it, but no. There was nothing.

But something did catch her eye, and its slender, black metal form caused all of her other thoughts to quiet.

Kanan’s scythe.

Hera put down the gadget she’d been examining as she moved closer to the black weapon. It was fully extended and the blade was half-buried in a metal sheath situated in the floor. She looked again at the huge open space in the atrium and realized it wasn’t empty space at all, but practice space. The stone floor was well swept and clean, but there were gouge marks in it, and now that she was looking there was an array of melee weapons to choose from all around her. Hera dragged her eyes back to the ominous weapon. Kanan must have been up at some point, training.

Fully extended, the scythe was bigger than she’d thought it would be, and darker than she’d thought it was too. Broken video feeds and grainy pictures didn’t do it any justice, and when she’d seen it in action yesterday, it was from a distance. Now that she was close, it was almost too real to her. She couldn’t look away. Her attention was transfixed, and the longer she stared the more … confused she became. The air around the weapon began to shift and waver, like air above hot desert sand, as if the metal was heated. But that was impossible. It was just a weapon, and it wasn’t connected to anything except the ground. Yet, even as she reached forward to touch it, she could feel the heat roll off it in waves, getting stronger the closer she drew.

Was it really as hot as it seemed? Was this where the burnt metal smell had come from? Or was it also a trick of her mind?

“You _are_ beautiful. No wonder he’s attracted to you.”

Hera gasped and staggered back, and the spell that had enticed her forward like a fly to honey broke. But it broke too late. Something surged at Hera, a swell of dark energy, and she was shocked to find hot fingers locked around her neck, taking her and slamming her hard against the stone floor.

Though momentarily dazed, her training kicked in and she reacted by reaching for her iron nail and sinking it deep into her attacker’s shoulder. Searing pain made her scream, and she was forced to release her only weapon as it burned her hand, fire hot. With growing panic, she pounded on the person above her, and what she saw made her freeze.

Kanan. It was Kanan. Only … it wasn’t.

“But you’re curious, and a little dangerous too. I understand now why you’re becoming such a distraction,” this not-Kanan mused in a parody of Kanan’s drawl as darkened, shadow-like skin pressed mercilessly on her throat, fever hot, and making her choke. His burning red eyes bore into hers soullessly, and this close she realized she could see through him, as if he were a dense shadow. A cruel shade.

“You’re only going to cause problems in the future,” the doppelganger finally declared. “I’m doing him a favor.”

“Let go of me!” Hera gasped, even as her vision began to sparkle, but she ignored the telling signs of asphyxiation and managed to bury her knee deep into his groin. Unfortunately, it proved to be ineffective. As a matter of fact, it only made the not-Kanan’s hold on her tighten, a murderous smile growing wider on his dark lips. Her head felt light, her blood pounded in her ears, everything starting to ring. If something didn’t happen, something soon that stopped this, she might die.

With what remained of her vision, she saw the dark thing abruptly scowl as rapid footsteps grew sharp and loud before something lethal and bright brutally beheaded the dark specter. With a snarl it evaporated, and the metal ring of her nail pealed through the air when it hit the floor. The pressure keeping Hera pinned to the ground was gone and she gasped, immediately curling into a ball. Her hands slipped around her neck, ensuring that nothing was trying to kill her anymore.

Air raced into Hera’s lungs as she coughed and breathed and generally worked toward achieving a normal breathing pattern again. As she did that, her vision cleared and she looked up to see Kanan, dressed in dark gray, take that-that  _thing_  of a scythe from where it stood innocuously in the ground. He sheathed the weapon he’d used against the shade on his belt at the same time that he stepped to the middle of the room.

 The muscles in Kanan’s body coiled, and with a great heave and flick of his arm and wrist, the scythe sailed lightning fast in great circular arches to the ceiling. Hera flinched when, instead of hearing the sound of metal sinking into the stone above, a great clang of metal-on-metal rang through the cavernous room. After closer inspection she could see, embedded in the rock, was another metal sheath made to hold the weapon. Hera stared at Kanan.

“You shouldn’t mess with things that aren’t yours,” Kanan said coldly.

“What,” Hera coughed as she snarled at Kanan, “what the hell was that!”

“Something that would have killed you. You don’t know how lucky you are that I noticed.” Kanan turned his back on her, and Hera’s naturally calm temper flared. Oh, no. Not again. Not anymore. She wasn’t playing this game where he had all the answers and he doled them out whenever he thought it was convenient. Not after what just happened.

“Enough!” Her voice was ragged from the rough treatment, bruised when it should have sung like a note. “That thing almost killed me, and I deserve to know what it was. You said nothing would happen to me here, Kanan. What was that?”

“Hera, there are a lot of things in this place that might hurt you and kill you. If you want my advice, you should just stay in your room. Unless you’re planning on killing yourself, nothing should try to kill you there.” He continued to walk away, his back tense.

“No, Kanan! Don’t you leave again.” With lightning reflexes, she reached out and snagged his arm, jerking him to a stop forcibly. She glared at his blind eyes and knew despite their milky-whiteness that he could still somehow see her anger. “You did it on Gorse, and you did it on Kessel. You can’t run from me here.”

Hera wasn’t sure which part of her words caused it, but the air around them abruptly swelled with suffocating, heavy heat, and the seething rage that showed on Kanan’s face was deadly. Even without the mask on his face, Hera was absolutely sure that the person in front of her wasn’t the Kanan she knew, but someone else; the Reaper.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said with dark menace, “but if you believe you know me, that I’m the same man you knew on Gorse, then you’re _wrong_. That man was just a front. There is no charming gunslinger here, Hera. Only a killer.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet? Why didn’t you let that thing kill me just now?” she demanded, her stubborn nature rising to match his, even if fear squeezed her heart and made it pound rapidly. “If you’re not the Kanan I remember, then why haven’t you locked me up somewhere and sent out a ransom to the rebellion? If you aren’t him, then why did you help all of us escape yesterday? Why didn’t you just let me drop from the sky when you jumped out of the building?”

“Maybe it’s because I plan on using you as bait,” he snapped, yanking his arm out of her grasp, the heat in the air stifling. “Maybe I’m going to use you as collateral to get Rider back. Maybe I saved you yesterday because it’s all part of a bigger game I’m playing, and I’m toying with you.”

“Liar,” she hissed at him, ignoring the tendrils of doubt attempting to take root in her heart. “It may have been five years since then, but I know better, Kanan.”

“What could you know? All we did was spend three days running for our lives, trying not to get blown up!” he barked. His features turned harsh. “What could you possibly know about me and who I am from that? I lied to you on Gorse. I lied to everyone! That’s what I do. I lie. I weave illusions, just like I’ve weaved them around you.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed and her voice was filled with venom. Her words sliced through the hot air like an axe. “Then how do you know you haven’t weaved them around yourself?”

Movement in the barracks hallway drew both of their attention like lightning, and her breath caught in her chest. Instead of Proxy, like she’d been expecting, it was someone else. A human.

“Kanan, I need you to manually reset my circuit. I can’t let go of Ezra’s projection and—”

Hera stared wide-eyed as this human with short dark hair, a boy or a man she couldn’t tell, strolled into the room clad in an orange jumpsuit. He stilled, abruptly becoming aware of the fact that Kanan and Hera were both in the room and in the middle of a vicious fight. The person’s blue eyes widened in surprise, and Kanan scowled.

“Great! Just great. What else is going to happen next?” The heat in the air, heavy and oppressive, suddenly thinned and lifted and Kanan cast a scathing glare at Hera before he addressed the new person. Now that Hera was looking, she realized why she couldn’t tell if this human male was a boy or a man. The proportions were wrong. His face looked young, like a teenager, but his legs and arms were abnormally long, giving him a bizarre, stretched appearance. Kanan gestured angrily. “Get over here, Prox.”

“I’m sorry, Kanan. I thought you were alone,” the man-boy said, and the voice that came out of his mouth was mechanical and familiar.

“Proxy?” Hera said in disbelief, unable to believe her eyes. That was Proxy? But how?

They both ignored her, and when Proxy was close enough, Kanan’s blind eyes seemed to scrutinize this black haired, tanned skin person before his lips pressed thin. “You can’t shorten your limbs?”

“No, Kanan,” Proxy replied with this human face. “I malfunctioned again when I tried to adjust them. It’s getting worse.”

Kanan sighed heavily, but nodded as if that explained everything. “Turn around.”

He did, and Hera watched as Kanan’s hand reached into the person’s back and sank in, right through. Where his hand disappeared the orange jumpsuit wavered tellingly, like a hologram, and with a jerk Kanan pulled something. The image of the black-haired figure flickered and faded away, and the gentle purple glow of Proxy’s energy lines dulled as the droid was once again revealed.

Hera suddenly understood. A holodroid. An infiltration droid.

Her mind flashed back to Takodana and the Zabrak she’d met there. The one with the tracker who’d tried to point them toward Nar Shaddaa and the seat that hadn’t been warm when it should have been.

Proxy. She’d bet anything that the Zabrak had been Proxy.

“Looks like that plan’s a bust,” Kanan commented as he twisted his wrist again and Proxy’s energy lines brightened to normal. “If you can’t pull him off without malfunctioning, I can’t send you off for the delivery on your own. You wouldn’t be able to fool him.”

“I’m sorry, Kanan,” Proxy said again, his photoreceptors dulled as the droid looked down. “If I wasn’t broken—”

“Don’t, Proxy,” Kanan said firmly. “Not right now. This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to hear it.”

“It really is all illusions around here, isn’t it?” Hera said suddenly, thinking of the differences in Kanan, the deadly thing stuck in the ceiling, and now the holodroid before her. Smoke and mirrors surrounded her everywhere, here with Kanan. What was real?

She had no idea.

Proxy stared at her, then back at Kanan, but when Kanan didn’t respond, Hera decided that she’d had enough. She turned on her heel and began walking toward the unguarded exit.

“Where are you going?” Kanan demanded, trailing after her and she glared at him, her lekku whipping about her shoulders.

“Outside, where the world isn’t going to turn in on itself!” she shouted. “So tell me now if something’s going to try and kill me on my way out.”

Kanan’s face was pinched and hard. His blind eyes narrowed at her, but through clenched teeth he said, “Don’t think of running off. There’s nothing out there, and my ships need activation codes.”

“Do I have to remind you again that I’m here because I want to be?” Well, right now she was only here because of her recruitment mission. If it had been her choice, she wasn’t sure if she’d voluntarily stay or not, now.

He scowled before sliding a hand over his face and back through his hair. Shaking his head, he stalked back toward Proxy. Hera took one from his book and stalked off down the dark tunnel that lead outside and away from the current bane of her existence.

Darkness fell thick around her in the tunnel, and with a careful hand she followed the smooth wall as it led her out. When she noticed the passage begin to lighten, and the air around her cool, Hera picked up speed and exited the tunnel at a short jaunt, eager see the sky and know that _something_ in the world was right.

Her breath huffed and fogged in front of her as her eyes adjusted to the dim, natural light. The silhouette of huge boulders towered around her, all around, and in the beginning twilight of the dark sky, she could make out the shadowed shape of Kanan’s ship where it rested next to a second. It was tempting to test Kanan, see if she really did need activation codes or if she could slice into the ships’ systems herself. More than anything she wanted to be buoyed in the air, liberated from the ground and gravity, able to leave her problems behind in a rush of speed and freedom.

But the mission hounded her, and she’d never been one to run away from her problems. For now, though, she needed space and time to cool off. To think.

Scanning the area, she saw that there was a small trail nearby, steps etched into the stone that lead up to the crest of a towering boulder, and with no hesitation she followed them up. They were steep, and she had to move carefully if she didn’t want to slip, but as she climbed higher and higher, the exertion a relief for her body and mind, she became eager again.

Where did this trail lead?

Finally, she crested the massive rock, and her breath caught as everything that had happened inside vanished from her mind. Her first look at her surroundings engulfed her, momentarily rendering her breathless.

Space. The dewy purple of a dawn sky, brightening into day. Endless, frost-touched plains, crisp and clean air, mountainous smooth boulders that broke the horizon in small clusters as far as she could see. Hera stared at the natural beauty, the last thing she’d expected to find up here, and slowly she turned for a panoramic view. It was the same everywhere, untouched and wild and beautiful, no matter where she looked. The only deviation was about a mile behind her, a stone mountain towering alone, surrounded by smaller ones. Aside from the hidden hole in the ground she’d emerged from, it was the only distinguishable shape on the land.

Standing at the top of this lookout, with not a sound to disturb the air except the labor of her breath and the gentle gusts of wind, she felt small, but also like she was on top of a forgotten world. She felt as if she was discovering something incredible for the first time in all of existence.

The confused anger in her blood cooled as the land around her grounded the restless energy. The tight wire around her heart loosened a little.

Hera stood like that, watching the sky ease into morning, the sun’s light gently warming her skin. A small boulder sat near the edge, and with a sigh she took a seat on it and just breathed. The vast landscape before her, all tall smooth rock, open plains, frosty air, emptied her, then helped pull her back to her calm, centered, logical self. It took some time, but eventually the sharp burn of her emotions receded. Her mind cleared.

With numb, tired eyes, Hera watched the sun rise higher and moons drift across the sky. She wouldn’t think about Kanan, or Proxy, or what had happened. She wouldn’t think about her crew or the mission. It was just her out here; her and endless nature. None of the worry. None of the stress. None of the red accusation and hurt rage.

She did wish the same could be said for the ache around her neck. The flesh of her throat had begun to heat as the damage done by that … shade began to swell. It ached like a reminder, and she tried to gently massage the pain away. It wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but she had to admit it had been so surprising that it stuck out like a splinter in her mind.

Hera closed her eyes and pretended that none of the problems in her life existed, for the moment. It was easy to do here.

The silence of the plains broke, and behind her Hera could hear soft footfalls climbing the steps up to her perch. Her muscles tensed reflexively and, with iron will, she forced them to relax. She wasn’t angry anymore, but she was more cautious now than she had been when she’d arrived. Carefully she turned her torso to spare her neck the agony of twisting, and Hera watched as Kanan slowly came into sight.

The mid-morning sunlight brushed over the man, and for a second she wasn’t entirely sure it was Kanan at all. He was wearing a blindfold, and a faded green cloak that hid away his arms and torso. His hair was down and loose about his shoulders, the brown there lightening and streaked with the faintest tints of red. Ascending like he was into the sunlight, he looked like a blind traveler, though it was eerie watching him maneuver so easily without sight.

Kanan didn’t say anything as he slowly neared, and she watched him shrewdly, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. As uncomfortable as she was about it, Hera let him stand next to where she was sitting on her rock. He did nothing except stand there, like a statue watching the land before him. Then he shifted.

“Here.”

Without turning his head toward her, Kanan pulled something out from under his cloak. In his hand was a cloth wrapped around something. Suspiciously, Hera took it, and she blinked at the soothing coolness which seeped into her fingers. A cold compress. She stared at him again, unwilling to trust him, but she knew what this was meant to be and though her neck ached in retaliation, she gently pressed the icy cloth against her throat.

“Hopefully that’ll help with the pain and any bruising.”

He still wasn’t looking at her, but now that he’d given her the compress, he hadn’t left either. Hera waited as the moment grew long, filled with her expectation.

“Are you going to say it?”

Kanan’s lips thinned, and he took a slow breath through his nose before he finally lifted his blindfolded eyes to face hers.

“I hadn’t expected you to be up so soon. I wouldn’t have left the scythe there if I’d known.” The unspoken words were there, hanging in the air, waiting, and Hera lifted her eyebrow pointedly. Kanan took another breath through his nose before he finally said, “I’m sorry. That you got hurt. For losing my composure. I told you nothing would happen to you here.” He sighed and there was contrition etched on his face. “Nothing like that will happen again.”

The pain around her throat felt as if it wanted to angrily reject the apology, but the cool cloth slowly convinced it not to protest. He was feeling guilty, clearly, and this was his way of apology, but what had happened … she didn’t know what to think. She wanted to be angry at him. That shade had looked like him, sounded like him. But this blind man beside her … he had saved her. Were they the same? Should she blame him for the attack, or thank him for rescuing her?

Or was the answer both?

Either way, she knew one thing for certain. Hera lifted her chin, the movement painful, but she bore through it.

“Give me back my blaster.” Her voice sounded terrible, but she refused to back down from this. It was the only way she’d begin to feel safe again. She needed it if she was going to stay.

His hand vanished under his cloak again, and returned a moment later with both her blaster and comlink. She took them back without a word, slipping on her glove, but she kept her blaster on her lap, relieved to have it back.

“I was going to give them back to you,” he said quietly. “What happened … it shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re right,” she told him with a hard tone. She looked from her blaster back to the man next to her. “If it happens again, Kanan, I will shoot you. And remember, I’m a good shot.”

He was motionless as her warning hung in the air, but eventually he gave her a short, grim nod.

Silence sat between them, and in the distance a bird called. Finally, Kanan look at her.

“Come on. There’s somewhere I’ve got to be, and I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

Her brow furrowed. What new ride was she about to be dragged on now?

“Does this have something to do with why Proxy was trying to impersonate someone?”

“Yeah,” he replied shortly. “If Proxy had been able to pull off the disguise, then I wouldn’t be required to make an appearance. But he can’t, so I have to go with him, and I’m not leaving you here.” His lips pulled up in a weak attempt at humor. It looked more like a grimace. “Unless you want to stay on your own.”

“Where are we going?”

Hera dropped her blaster into her holster. Though she still wasn’t happy with the way things were progressing, and she still wasn’t sure what to make of Kanan and whatever nonsense he was mixed up in, she knew for a fact that she didn’t want to be here, least of all on her own. Besides, going somewhere and doing something would help further settle her nerves. So long as they weren’t about to storm an Imperial base, she was mostly up for anything.

“I have to conduct some business with a smuggler we work with, from time to time,” Kanan replied as he let her take the lead down the steps and away from the magnificent outlook. “Just delivering some goods so that we get paid. Usually Rider takes care of this sort of business, but since he’s not here, I’ve got to do it.”

“What? Your usual missions don’t foot the bills?”

The remark slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and cautiously she checked over her shoulder and waited to see how he’d respond to the weak, slightly teasing jab.

A quiet, airy chuckle filled the air behind her, and the clamp that had wound around her stomach relaxed some.

“As much as I wished they did, not so much. We’ve got to work just like everyone else.”

“Well, who’d have known the infamous Reaper huffed it like the rest of us.”

“If anyone could have guessed, it would have been you.”

Now it was Hera’s turn to quietly chuckle. “I thought all that flight mining non-sense on Gorse was just a front. A lie.” A touch of bitterness edged the word and she closed her mouth before more came out. She was trying to test waters, not burn bridges.

“Maybe not a complete lie,” Kanan surprised her by slowly amending. “I’ll have you know that I’m a hard-working citizen of the Empire. Sometimes.”

“When you’re not trying to destroy it.”

“I like to think of it as a hobby.”

She still had questions and concerns, and things weren’t all right between them, but Hera was amused. Though it was uncomfortable, a little awkward, a little dangerous, it seemed the lighter side of Kanan was showing through, and the rough patch they’d crashed into this morning seemed to have passed.

She didn’t know if this lighter side was a part of the real Kanan or not anymore, but she was at least familiar was this side of him. While it was here, given his unpredictable nature, she’d make the most of it while she could. Regardless of what he’d claimed earlier about the Kanan she knew being a lie, if it really had been, why had he felt the need to apologize and give her the compress to help take responsibility for her injuries? Why was he working with her to try and bridge the gap between them with this tentative banter?

She didn’t know, not yet, but she hoped it was a sign that she’d been right when she’d claimed the one he was lying to was himself.

But only time would tell that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff happened in this chapter, and poor Hera. She’s having a rough day, but our girl’s a tough cookie. If anyone’s got this, it’s her. And we got more of Proxy! Isn’t he a sweetheart? For those of you who are familiar with Proxy of Legends, there is a reason why he might seem more anxious than his original counterpart, which will eventually be revealed.
> 
> So, this chapter was supposed to be much longer, but during the drafting phase I decided to split it into two parts. Partially to emphasize the gravity of what happened in this chapter, but also because editing almost 12k words in one chunk would make me run my head through the wall. That being said, this second part is coming out on Sunday! Kanan’s got some business transactions to take care of, after all, and it’ll be interesting to see what’s going on in his head, huh?
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I’d love to hear from you! On a side-note, I’ve also changed the blurb for the story. I realized the original one was a little lighthearted and maybe misleading, and lacked the darker gravity that’s at the heart of Blackbird. Hopefully that’s fixed now.


	10. Business Matters

Kanan sat in the hold of the  _Escape_  across from Proxy, leaning against a slim, wooden walking stick as he waited for Hera to land. Hera had jumped at the chance to pilot the ship and though he’d been uncomfortable offering her the position, when dealing with a smuggler like Vizago, Kanan couldn’t be too careful. Knowing that broken-horned Devaronian, he probably had a droid specifically designated to look into the  _Escape’s_  cockpit as it passed just so Vizago would know beforehand just who he’d be dealing with. If the smuggler got even a whiff that Kanan wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to be — a blind man and not fully capable of flying the ship himself — who knew what he’d do? Probably get nosey for blackmail and then Kanan would have to take care of him, before Vizago sold the information to the wrong people.

No, it was better that someone with real working eyes flew, just to be on the safe side.

“We’re approaching the coordinates you gave me,” Hera told him over her shoulder, one of her lekku shifting with the movement. “I have to say, you keep some nice ships, Kanan. This one handles well too.”

Her voice was hoarse and ragged, not that clear alto that was all hers, and memories of what happened earlier raged in his mind again, relentless and cruel. He could still feel the flare of heat and deadly intent in the Force, followed by the surge of Hera’s sharp panic as if it had happened five minutes ago. It hadn’t taken Kanan long to figure out what had happened, and he’d raced from his room with mind enough to take the sword he’d been working with. It was happening again. It was all that had filled his mind. That, and that if he wasn’t fast enough, this time he might be too late.

Another sick throb of shame rolled through him.

He was a fool. What was he thinking, leaving the scythe out in the open where she might get to it? He hadn’t done something so stupid since the last incident. How had he forgotten to keep it out of reach? He’d been so careful; how had it slipped his mind now?

When he’d found Hera, her body was already starting to fall slack, the fight leaving her, and he’d been terrified that this time he really had been too late. But he hadn’t been. Over and over he replayed that moment in his mind. He hadn’t been too late. He hadn’t been too late. He hadn’t been too late. He’d saved Hera, he’d removed the scythe and put it out of reach where only he’d be able to get it. She’d taken great gasps of glorious life. It had been a long time since he’d felt such honest relief.

In retrospect, he should have known better than to think Hera would let things lie. Of course it was in her nature to get to the bottom of the situation, understand what had just happened to her. She’d almost died, she had every right.

But then she’d pushed too hard and said that one word, and he’d lost it.

Run.

Run run run run. Over and over like an ear worm, it dug into his skull and his conscience, and he’d panicked and seen red. His anger had flared to rage, the Force quick to adapt and change. Deep down, he couldn’t begin to describe how thankful he was for Proxy’s unanticipated interruption, because if they’d kept arguing, if he and Hera had kept butting heads, pushing the situation to higher and more dangerous extremes when he was like that ….

Kanan’s hands tightened on the wood of his walking stick. It creaked.

How many times had he told Ezra off for losing his temper? For not controlling his emotions, even in stressful situations? Since when was the master the one who lost so much control?

For hours now he’d tried to pinpoint why he’d already been so close to the brink, so close that he’d almost toppled. Was it because he was worried about Ezra, and why he hadn’t sent word yet? Or was it because of Hera? Her presence back in his life was the last thing he’d ever wanted, and within a day of close company he’d almost gotten her killed. Was that the reason?

Kanan didn’t know. This was all a mess. Just one big mess.

His hold on his stick flexed again, and he was a little surprised that it didn’t splinter in his grasp.

“Kanan?”

Banishing his thoughts, he lifted his head and reached out with his Force sense. At some point in his mental lapse, they’d landed. Not far away, Vizago and his droids waited for him. Proxy was already standing, waiting to get out, and Hera was staring at him.

“You all right?”

Though Hera didn’t know, Kanan saw that her throat was already beginning to darken under the high line of her collar, despite the compress she’d kept pressed there since they’d left the base. She was the last person who should be asking if he was all right, not after what he’d let happen to her.

He’d told her nothing would happen to her.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up to stand, all the while forcing his shattered thoughts to pull themselves back together enough to orient his behavior into the one he always displayed when he dealt with Vizago. That was the part he had to play now. He needed to focus. “We shouldn’t be here too long. We’ll make the transaction, and then we’ll head back.”

Meditate. That’s all he wanted to do right now. He just needed to get through the meeting without incident, then they could get back to the base. He’d meditate then. He’d meditate all day, outside in front of the temple if he had to. Anything to get his emotions back under control, without the crutch of the scythe.

Greasy unease sat at the bottom of his stomach. He wasn’t sure that he could.

“Is it usually as easy as that?” Hera asked. Kanan shrugged, dragging his mind back again.

“Usually? It’s a toss-up.”

Hera unstrapped herself from the pilot’s seat and retracted the hatch. Proxy climbed out and waited for Kanan to pass him the small hoard of weaponry he and Ezra had managed to loot from an Imperial supply ship heading for the Mid-Rim. Once the droid was out of the way with the merchandise, Kanan nodded for Hera to climb out as well. She lifted an incredulous eyebrow.

“You want me to come with you?”

“Vizago’s expecting a blind man who can’t get around by himself,” Kanan explained. “Every time he’s had to deal with me, Rider has been here as well to ‘help me’, and to oversee so that he doesn’t try anything funny.”

“But you could do that all on your own. I’d bet you could probably even pretend to be blind, and do it,” Hera pointed out, clearly as uneasy about this as he was. This morning was still too raw for both of them, but like it or not, he needed her help.

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t match the behavior I’ve built over the years with him,” Kanan replied. “He’s unerringly sharp at all the worst times, and if I show up by myself without someone to ‘help’ me, he’ll know something’s up. So, I need someone, and congratulations. You’re it. That’s why I was trying to send Proxy alone, earlier.”

“What would you have done if I’d decided to stay back at your base?” she asked blandly. Despite his blindfold, his eyebrows must have spoken loudly enough because she sighed, relenting. They both knew she wouldn’t have stayed. “You know, you could have asked first.”

“What if I ask nicely now?”

It was like he was some damn pendulum recently. One moment he was cool and in control, the next he’d lost it, and ever since Hera had stepped back into his life, his old habits were coming out again and he was  _flirting_. Kanan didn’t flirt, not unless it got something they needed, but this had just slipped out. It was like he was back on Gorse, smooth-talking his way into Hera’s good graces. He wasn’t playing that gunslinger right now. He hadn’t been that gunslinger in years.

But why was he acting like this?

It was a question for another time. For now, he pushed his muddled thoughts aside and focused on what he needed to be and what he needed to do. He needed to work with Hera and the gunslinger persona made things easier, so he’d use it. If the sudden shift in his mood caught her, Hera didn’t let on although he could sense her reluctant surprise in the Force. Again she surprised him by playing along.

“Well, if you ask nicely, I suppose I can’t just let a blind man walk into the wilderness alone, can I?”

“You’re too kind,” he muttered sarcastically before again gesturing for her to climb out. “Now help the blind man out, why don’t you?”

She snorted at him softly, and the thought that it was an adorable little snort slipped across his mind, unbidden. He was thankful his eyes were hidden from sight because he rolled them, chastising himself. He was a grown man and a master assassin. He was a former Jedi, and a formidable Force user. How was it that a woman — this woman — could get under his skin like this when no one but Ezra, Maz, or the Empire had been able to in years?

Her hand felt warm and firm as she helped him out of the  _Escape_ , then down onto the ground. Though he didn’t know how she could bare to touch him after this morning, once on the ground he lifted his elbow in her direction, and she led him forward with that firm hold. It must be her professionalism. He had to admit that, right now, it was lightyears better than his own.

“Just remember,” he murmured as they began approaching Vizago. “Pretend I can’t see. I’ll handle everything else.”

“I know how to act, Kanan. I’ve played this game a time or two before, you know. Now hush, before I accidentally let you trip on a rock.”

He couldn’t stop the small smirk that pulled at his lips when faced with her sass, but he pulled it off the closer they came to the smuggler. In the Force he could see that the Devaronian was intrigued by his presence, and Hera’s assistance, but he didn’t say anything until they’d stopped several feet ahead of him.

“He’s in front of you,” Hera told him as she let his arm go, staying close by, and Kanan aimed his face blindly in Vizago’s general direction.

“Vizago.”

“Jarrus! A rare pleasure to see you, be assured,” Vizago told him with his thickly accented Basic. “I’m surprised your boy isn’t here.”

Now that they were here and doing this, Kanan’s mind sharpened and cleared with focus, and he watched Vizago in the Force. He often didn’t deal directly with the smuggler, since that was Ezra’s job, and now he remembered why he’d delegated the duty. Doing business with this Devaronian often left him feeling like he’d been covered in slime. It was never a pleasant experience.

“He’s busy,” Kanan said, leaning on his walking stick. “I’m making the transaction.”

“Clearly,” the smuggler replied with mock pleasantness. His eyes turned to Hera. “And just who is this lovely woman?” Vizago looked Hera over with obvious interest, interest Kanan found he did not appreciate. “Perhaps an asset to trade with? I don’t usually deal in slaves, but I do know someone who does. I can get you in contact with him, if you’d like.”

“No,” Kanan said shortly, and Hera shifted beside him, unphased and nothing but cool confidence.

“I’m a new business partner,” Hera told the smuggler, giving nothing away as she placed a hand on her hip. “Just learning his side of the business.”

“I see,” Vizago said with a laugh. “Apologies. Hopefully you have more a mind for business than he does. Without that son of his, he’d get swindled. I should know.”

A strange amalgam of ice and heat writhed in Kanan’s gut at the casual implication of Ezra. Hera was intelligent, and her eyes were sharp as knives. With all the accidental evidence that was flying around them, he was sure that she’d eventually work out an accurate picture of Ezra despite everything Kanan had done to the contrary. Hera had already unearthed more than Kanan had ever wanted her to find out, and now this smuggler was about to let another thing slip, and this was something a little too close to home.

But he couldn’t let his agitation show. Vizago would take it and run a mile. He’d just have to accept that there was only so much he’d be able to control in this situation, and he’d mitigate the damage later.

“I can be pretty sharp,” Hera replied. “I believe we have something you want.”

“Direct. I like her,” Vizago said with a grin in her direction, even though his words had been meant for Kanan. It made him roll his eyes under the blindfold. It was another reason why he didn’t enjoy working with this smuggler. Just because Kanan was blind, he often tried to get away with more than he should.

“Vizago,” he said calmly. “I may not have eyes, but even I know your eyes are wandering. Now are we going to make the deal, or not?”

“Yes, yes,” the Devaronian sighed, crossing his arms. “Where are they?”

Kanan lifted his hand and waved Proxy forward, and the droid pushed the stolen weapons over to where Vizago’s droids waited, and they began checking inventory. “They were right where you’d said they’d be. That’s all there was.”

Vizago looked over his shoulder and waited for his droids to give him confirmation. Proxy walked back to Kanan and stood beside Hera, the droid’s usually cheerful countenance unreadable. Kanan turned his head so that an ear was facing the Devaronian, as if intensely listening, even as he watched in the Force. A droid nodded. Vizago turned to them with a smile.

“Indeed. As always, I am impressed with your ability to procure,” the smuggler said as he clicked credits against each other before handing them over to Hera. “As promised.”

Hera counted them, then took his arm and placed the credits in his upturned hand. Kanan pretended to count the money as he pressed them across his fingers for show, and then hid them away under his cloak. He turned again in Vizago’s general direction. “If that’s all, my associate and I will be on our way.”

“Actually, there is something.”

That caught both his and Hera’s attention, and though Kanan was reluctant to continue this charade, work was work, and money was money. He and Ezra weren’t exactly hurting for it right now, but the way things were heading with both the Empire and the rebellion wanting a piece of them, it might be wise to gather as much income as possible before going to ground later. Hera tapped on his hand, as if that indicated some quiet communication between them and wasn’t something she was clearly making up for show. Kanan turned his face to Vizago.

“I’m listening.”

“I hear word that the Empire is working on some sort of prototype, one which is being moved from the production facility here on Lothal to the Core.” It was all Kanan could do not to frown. He’d tried to keep the fact that they were on Lothal quiet too, but it was as if every secret he had was being revealed to Hera despite all of his efforts. He wasn’t stupid. What was the Force up to?

“What about it?” Kanan asked, and Vizago shrugged.

“I want it. As I hear, a certain Captain Reese Mitchell will escort this prototype. If you can get it for me, I will see to it that you are well paid.”

“What does this prototype do?” Hera asked, and Vizago shrugged again.

“It explodes. It’s a prototype for a new grenade the Empire has been working on, and that’s about all that’s relevant,” he replied ambiguously. “I don’t ask too many questions, and neither should you.”

Kanan checked the Devaronian’s Force aura, and though there was a great deal there that bespoke many lies and deceits, there was no more than the usual amount rolling off of him now, and that was telling enough. If he could get this thing for Vizago, then he was confident that he’d be adequately paid.

“When do you want it by?”

“The prototype is supposed to head for the Core sometime in the next few days, so that should be your answer.”

“That doesn’t exactly give us a lot of time,” Kanan pointed out.

“That’s your problem to deal with, not mine. Besides, you have new help.” That said, Vizago waved to the droids behind him to take away the weapons Kanan had just provided, now that the business transaction was over. “Just get me the weapon.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Hera said with a cool smile as she took Kanan’s arm again and began to lead him away.

“As always, a pleasure doing business with you, Jarrus!”

“I can’t say the same,” he muttered under his breath, but he lifted a hand in the air and let Vizago make of it whatever he wanted. “Let’s get out of here.”

“So that’s the sort of work you and your partner do in your off time?” Hera mused as she looked back over her shoulder for a moment. “Can’t say it’s a whole lot different from what we do for money.”

“What? The rebellion doesn’t foot the bills?”

“Oh, turnabout. Ha-ha.”

Kanan again just couldn’t stop his smirk, and beside him he saw Hera do the same.

After boarding the  _Escape_ , Hera had them in the air and away in no time. He turned to Proxy. “You know anything about this Captain Reese Mitchell?”

“Not much,” Proxy answered before he accessed his internal memory and his photoreceptors flashed. Slowly the appearance of Proxy faded away and was replaced with the image of a man in middle age dressed in an Imperial uniform with manicured hair, a fit body, and a certain polish which suggested to Kanan that this man took efforts to maintain his image. The voice that came out of the projection Proxy was impersonating was suave, and Kanan wondered if Mitchell practiced that too. “But I have some older data which might be of use.”

The  _Escape_  jerked before its flightpath was corrected, and they both saw Hera casting a tense eye back at them.

“Sorry. Just wasn’t expecting an Imperial to appear in the back of our ship. That’s usually not a good sign.”

“It’s only me, Captain Syndulla,” Proxy replied in his normal voice, though the holoprojection around him didn’t fade. “I only take on the appearance of those I’m impersonating. I do not become them. I’m merely accessing archived information, and I pose no threat.”

“Right.” She faced forward again, intent on the flight. “I kind of figured that out earlier. Thanks though, Proxy.”

“You’re welcome, Captain Syndulla,” Proxy replied, and the image of Reese Mitchell smiled. Kanan rolled his eyes at the polite droid, but wasn’t surprised. Hera was charming. Of course she’d charm even his droid.

“Prox, what have you got for me.”

Proxy looked at him again, and the voice that came out of him was Reese Mitchell’s once more. “Captain Reese Mitchell. Enlisted in the Imperial Academy shortly after the rise of the Empire and specializes in weapons engineering. His advancement through the ranks has indicated nothing special and, according to my records, he has had a position at the Lothal development facility for the last year.”

“Personal information?” Kanan prompted. “Anything we could use to figure out how we’re going to get this bomb?”

“Nothing logged, Kanan. He has had one reprimand in the last five years for excessive drinking, but that’s all the information I have access to.”

The holoprojection of the Imperial captain faded away with a flicker, and Proxy looked down at his mechanical hands and his colored energy lines with relief. Kanan suspected the droid had been worried that he might get stuck again, like he had earlier today. It was happening more often lately. There was only so much maintenance he and Ezra could do for him. If they wanted to do more, they’d have to find a better mechanic, one who wouldn’t ask why they had a very rare and sophisticated droid.

“Looks like you’re going to need more information, if you’re going to take Vizago up on his job,” Hera commented from her seat. “Hang on, we’re about to land.”

As always, Kanan was impressed with her skill. He hardly felt the landing at all. They disembarked, and the chilly air was a familiar relief to the warmer region they’d met Vizago at. In the distance, the equally familiar shape of the monolithic Lothal temple stood like a sentry, and a reminder to his Force sense.

He began unwinding his blindfold and pulling the cloak from his shoulders before hopped off the edge of the  _Escape_. Behind him Proxy followed, though Hera took her time. Her reluctance to enter the temple barracks again was clear in the Force, and he looked back at her, raising an eyebrow while his gut tightened. The events of this morning flared again in his mind. He wouldn’t force her to come back in, but it would be problematic if she insisted on staying out here.

“You coming?”

Her answer was slow, but eventually she said, “So long as nothing tries to kill me again.”

She hopped off the  _Escape_  down next to him, and though he could feel her reluctance, she followed into the tunnel and back into the base. Reflexively, he used his Force sense to check that there were no intruders. There were none, there never were, but he was relieved none-the-less. After how this week was going, who knew what other curveballs he’d be thrown? Kanan activated the lights before dropping his disguise on a table.

“Proxy, dig up what you can on Mitchell. Hera, if you’d like to help, I wouldn’t have any objections.”

He caught the way her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, where his scythe hung safely out of reach, but she shrugged after a moment.

“It’ll give me something to do. I guess I could spare a hand.” She looked at him. “What are you going to do?”

He still wanted to meditate, but decided that for now it could wait. Instead, Kanan swiped up a very specific comlink from one of the tables, one he used to get in contact with a very specific person.

“Pursuing other avenues for information. I’ll be back soon.” He paused before leaving and turned his blind eyes to Hera. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”

He didn’t miss the way she took a long breath before slowly letting it out and nodding. Proxy looked at her.

“Don’t worry, Captain Syndulla. While Kanan is away, I will make sure you encounter no threats.”

Hera’s lips pulled up, and her eyes crinkled at the side. “All right. Thank you, and Proxy. Call me Hera.”

Reassured by the amusement and reluctant trust in Hera, Kanan left them to their research before heading for the outlook outside.

* * *

 

“That’s all you know?”

“As I said, that’s all I know,” the voice told him over the comlink, reluctant and annoyed as it always was. “It’s a well-known fact that Mitchell has a certain taste for pomp. He’s been talking about the gala for days now, and I suspect that in his eyes, he sees it as his final huzzah before he heads back to civilization. He’ll be there.”

Kanan breathed through his nose and massaged his blind eyes as he thought. Plans began piecing themselves together to form the best option in his mind. “I see.”

“Is there anything else? _Friend_?”

The way the voice on the comlink drolled the word ‘friend’, made it clear that Kanan’s informant thought of himself as anything but.

“Yes,” Kanan replied. “Do you know anything about the Inquisitors in the sector?”

The sigh on the other end of the comlink was audible, and it caused the small speaker in his hand to crackle. “I thought you might ask about them.”

“Them?”

“Yes, there’s two of them. Didn’t you know? I was under the impression that you and your protégé had met them both. The male is the Grand Inquisitor, a Pau’an.”

“He and I have met,” Kanan grumbled, recalling the yellow-eyed Red Blade, his smug pride, and his offer. “The other?”

“A Mirialan woman who calls herself the Seventh Sister.”

Thinking back, he remembered that Hera had destroyed a lift to stop a Red Blade. It must have been this Seventh Sister. Just wonderful. Two Inquisitors after him, and one of them, he knew, was exceedingly dangerous.

“What do they know?”

“Not much,” his informant replied, “but if I were you, I would lie low. They know you’ve been in the Lothal sector recently. The information which lured you out could only be found in one place. You’re slipping.”

If Kanan could give an appropriate glare through the comlink, and make the man on the other end consider the next words he said very carefully, he would. Instead, he said with a cold tone, “Just let me know if you find anything else. _Friend_.”

“Of course,” his informant replied smoothly before the comlink went dead.

Kanan flicked it off and held the small device in his hand tightly. Slipping. Had he been slipping? Given who was telling him this, he wanted to vehemently deny it, but now that he looked back on the series of events which had led him to where he was now … how hadn’t he noticed? Why hadn’t he cross-checked the data he and Ezra had gotten their hands on? Questioned it? Inquired about it, like he should have? Like he always told Ezra he should do? Ezra had even told him that something felt wrong about all of it. He’d felt it himself.

And yet, he’d ignored it. All he’d been able to think about was the mission. The kill. The heat in his scythe had been stifling. Thinking back, he almost felt like his mind had been fogged, a bit like it had this morning when he’d forgotten his scythe out in the open.

Maybe he _was_ slipping.

Kanan ran a hand through his hair. Not now. Now wasn’t the time to think about anything like that. This new mission was his focus right now, and frankly, he looked forward to it for the distraction it would provide. Even if, according to the best plan he could come up with, the mission’s success would be higher if he didn’t do it alone.

And of course, as the Force would have it, Hera would be the ideal partner.

Kanan cast his mind out to the Force glumly, waiting to see if it would react, but it was only quiet and filled with potential. With promise. He shook his head and pocketed the comlink before heading back inside. Hera and Proxy were huddled around the workstation, and as he entered the Twi’lek pushed off the chair she’d been leaning against. Proxy faced him as well.

“Kanan, Rider has sent a message.”

The tightness lingering at the pit of his heart eased. Logically he knew Ezra could take care of himself, but still, word from his apprentice brought about a certain type of relief he hadn’t been able to convince himself of on his own.

“What did he say?”

“That he and my crew would meet us in a week, at an abandoned outpost we use whenever we’re separated and need to reconvene. I can get back to my crew, and Rider will come back to you,” Hera replied as she handed him a holopad, pausing for a moment as if realizing she was giving him something he shouldn’t be able to read.

“I can read it,” he told her, taking the small tablet in his hand and scanned the data. Only Ezra knew the right codes to give Maz to send to him, and he doubted Hera’s crew could have forced him to send this. It read like him too.

“It looks like you’re stuck with me until then.”

“More like you’re stuck with me. Again, I want to be here,” Hera said. “Besides, I’d have left on my own when it was time.” Kanan lifted an eyebrow at the Twi’lek woman, but said nothing. That would have been something to see. She wouldn’t have succeeded escaping if that had been the case, but he wondered how far she would’ve gotten before he stopped her.

If he stopped her at all.

“Since you’re planning on staying, you can earn your keep,” Kanan told her. “We’ll be getting this prototype Vizago wants. If you’d please, I’d appreciate your help.” He grinned at her. “See, I can ask nicely.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed and she put a hand on her hip. “If you’re planning on assassinating Mitchell to get this prototype, count me out.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on assassinating him, not for something like this.”

“Then what do you want my help for?”

“This mission is going to take a certain level of skill and sophistication,” he replied. “I know you’ve got both in spades.”

“All right,” she said after a moment. “I’ll bite. What are you thinking?”

“I don’t have a crew and my usual partner is clearly not here,” Kanan explained. “And for the best chance of success, this is a two-person operation. An informant of mine has told me where Mitchell will be in a few days before he leaves for the Core. It’s then that we’ll need to work together to steal this prototype.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve worked together,” she muttered, a lek shifting over her shoulder. He was glad his blind eyes gave nothing of his attentiveness in the Force to that small, subtle movement that kept snagging his attention. “And I’ve done a fair amount of thieving in my day. Doesn’t sound too hard.”

Kanan was sure that would be the epitaph that rested on his grave, one day.

He expected the next words that slipped from his mouth to come out with some difficulty, but they sailed out smooth as silk.

“How do you feel about dancing?”

Hera stared at him as if he’d admitted he liked to strip and walk around naked out in the frigid Lothal air outside.

“Dancing?”

“I’ve been told the target enjoys social affairs, and intends on attending a gala before he heads to the Core with the prototype.” He paused before giving her a small, reluctant smirk. “I was thinking about crashing it, but it would look odd if I went alone without a lovely date by my side.”

Hera’s eyebrows rose, but then a slow smile slipped onto her lips, and Kanan did his best not to soak it in or notice her natural beauty or the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

He failed. On all accounts.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m not half-bad on my feet, and I’ve never been to a gala before.” Her smile twitched. “I’ll need to go shopping though. I didn’t exactly pack for a party when I came here, and I doubt that this will do.” She gestured to her flight suit, and it was only then that he realized that she was right. Hera would need to dress the part, and so would he. That detail hadn’t even crossed his mind. She was already more than beautiful in her flight suit. Her in an evening dress?

Kanan’s traitorous heart fluttered, and the Reaper in him simmered with disgust and disappointment.

Kallus might actually be right. He was slipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mellow chapter, but I hope you liked it. Poor Kanan’s all over the place and just can’t seem to get steady, but with Hera maybe it’ll be okay? Who knows? Anyway, we finally get a hint of Kallus here, which is pretty exciting! As of now I’m undecided how much of a role he’s going to take in Blackbird, but we’ll see how it all pans out.
> 
> The next couple of chapters, as I’m sure you’ve worked out by now, are going to be mission chapters. Though it’s tempting to lead with the Kanera chapter I have in store, the crew is getting theirs first. Now, who wants to guess what happens when a Mando, a Lasat, a Jedi Padawan and a nexu have a mission together? I imagine it will be … explosive.


	11. Rescue Efforts

Rosie screeched, successfully startling half of the stormtroopers and drawing fire from most of the rest. Ezra moved quickly. With half a mind on the Force bond he shared with his nexu, he outflanked the guards on patrol and shot two of the three with his blaster. They fell to the ground, white and limp.

“Go,” Ezra murmured into his comlink, taking cover as Rosie began to wreak havoc, effectively drawing more of the troopers guarding the base like moths to a flame. “We’ve got it covered.”

“Got it.”

Sabine’s voice was cool in the comm and out of the corner of his eye he saw three shadows crossing the field behind him to the door embedded in the cliff wall. She, Zeb, and Chopper were the infiltration and rescue team. He and Rosie were the distraction team and would keep everyone off their backs in the meantime.

Blaster fire lit the air in angry reds, and through his bond with Rosie, he knew that the first round of reinforcements had just arrived. He peered around the cover of his boulder and was pleased to see it was only a squad of four this time. Still well within reasonable odds for him and his nexu.

After picking up Rosie, it was decided that, after he’d explained more of his and Rosie’s capabilities as a team, they should be the diversion. When on mission with Kanan, Ezra’s usual role was to distract any outsiders from finding his master before Kanan could complete his mission. This was much the same thing, and Ezra was more than qualified in the art of distraction.

Sabine hadn’t been as willing to give him the position as he’d hoped, and he supposed he could see where she was coming from. They only had his word to go off of, and there was still an underlying level of tension given the team’s still shaky trust. Leaving him out there alone could be all the opportunity he needed to get back to Kanan, despite his promise to stay and help. For all they knew, he very well could abandon them while they were inside, and leave them to the Empire.

But she relented when he played her game and suggested that, instead, he and Rosie could go and rescue the prisoners while she and Zeb distracted the Imperials. That had made Zeb scoff and Sabine’s lips press thin. The presence of the Rider would scare the prisoners, and they’d be sure his nexu was there to eat them. It made more sense that the  _Ghost_  crew go and rescue the sympathizers while he and Rosie took care of everyone outside.

A trooper was within range and he dashed from his hiding spot, blaster raised. With his other hand, Ezra dipped into a pocket and tossed a bomb Sabine had given him earlier into a small cluster of bushes. It didn’t go off, not yet, and instead he shot the guard and generally made himself very visible.

It worked. Most of the troopers began advancing, moving from their safer positions in an attempt to get better lines of fire. It worked even better when he sent Rosie around behind them, corralling them forward. Trying to fight both him and his nexu at the same time was proving to be more difficult than the Imperials were trained to deal with, and in no time they’d walked themselves right where Ezra wanted them.

“You’re all sure taking your time,” he teased, half-serious, and Chopper’s harsh binary came through loud and clear. Then the droid whooped in success.

“We’re in,” Sabine told him, her voice standing out amidst the bright chaos around him. “You sure you’re doing all right out there?”

Hearing that the first part of the mission had gone through as planned, Ezra stopped biding time and somersaulted in the air, shooting one of the troopers in the back on his way down. He dashed behind the same rock Rosie was currently waiting behind and swung himself up onto her back. With perfect timing she leapt up onto the large boulder and screeched, her great maw wide and filled with razor sharp teeth. The trooper’s attention was completely on them and, in the Force, Ezra could feel their worry as it slowly grew into fear.

Ezra smiled before lifting his lightsaber pistol.

“We’re fine,” he replied easily as he aimed at Sabine’s bomb, now located just behind the small clutch of stormtroopers, and fired. Hot flames and the deafening thunder of explosion filled the air, taking out three of his enemies. Not as many as he’d hoped — which was all of them — but all things considered he had three less enemies to deal with now. Not bad. “Don’t you all have your own mission to be worrying about?”

“Can it, pint-size,” Zeb growled into the comm, and Ezra snickered before urging Rosie to the right and into the thick trees surrounding the perimeter of the base as more enemy bolts attempted to find their targets. As he’d expected, the troopers began following after them. Rosie climbed a thick tree, and it was then that Ezra slipped off and relaxed his control on the nexu’s mind. This was her element. Her prime hunting ground. She sure as hell didn’t need his help figuring out how to hunt in this shadowy forest.

“Have fun. Don’t torment them too much,” he whispered to his girl, and Rosie wiggled a little in excitement before bounding off. Ezra watched her disappear before moving closer to the forest edge to keep an eye on the base, waiting for his next cue.

* * *

 

The mission, as far as Sabine was concerned, was going off without a hitch.

Sabine signaled the next phase of the plan with her hand, and she, Zeb, and Chopper began the infiltration stage. According to Fulcrum’s report, the interior of this base was thinly staffed, being a small outpost in the quadrant. Luckily, it was the only one the Empire had been able to use at short notice to house the rebel sympathizers. That worked to their favor, and she hoped that between the three of them, they’d be able to handle any threats that might come up inside.

A trooper ran around the corner, likely drawn by reports of Rider’s rampage outside with Rosie, and Sabine took care of him before he made it ten feet. Chopper surged around her to check the corner while she and Zeb dragged the body to the side, hiding it in a doorway where it wouldn’t be so easily noticed. If they continued to be lucky, their team wouldn’t be found out for a little while longer.

Another corner cleared and passed and, according to Chopper, they were nearing the room the sympathizers were being held.

“Still doing all right out there?” Sabine asked as Chopper drew to a stop before a locked door, alerting her and Zeb through gurgled binary that this was it. Zeb patrolled a little further ahead and peeked into another room, pausing for a moment to clear it with his bo-rifle.

“Found the command room,” Zeb told her with a gruff grin, and she waved the Lasat in so he could keep an eye out for anymore Imperials. The comm clicked.

“You know, I thought this would be more of a challenge,” Rider told her, static edging his voice. “I’m starting to wonder if you needed me at all.”

“Think of it as peace of mind,” she muttered back, content that things were still going well on his side of the operation too. With a final flourish, Chopper had the door open. The light from the hallway illuminated the darker room and five rough looking humans stared back at her from where they sat on the ground with their hands bound before them. She and Chopper entered quickly, and one of them, an older woman with hard eyes, staggered to her feet and glared at her.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded, iron in her tone. “Are you the one they sent to interrogate us?”

“We’re with the rebellion,” Sabine told her as she pulled off her helmet to meet the woman’s eyes with her own.  “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” a man cried as she and Chopper began unbinding the shackles from their wrists. Around her the other’s eyes slowly filled with relief. “Is that what all that commotion’s been about? When the guards left, they told us that the next person to come in here would deal with us personally. We’d heard a high-ranking Imperial was supposed to be coming soon, to interrogate us, and we thought it might be them. They must have been lying.”

High-ranking Imperial? There had been no information about something like that in Fulcrum’s intelligence. Sabine’s instincts nagged at her in that way she knew better to ignore.

“What do you mean?”

The comm clicked by her helmet and her attention was snagged. Zeb’s voice came through.

“Sabine, you need to see this.”

Judging by the way Zeb’s voice had gone dark and tight, she suspected that she was about to find out what this man was talking about.

“What is it?”

“Trouble.”

She frowned as she donned her helmet again before addressing the sympathizers. “Come on. We need to go.” They were quick to follow, even the suspicious, hard-eyed woman. Everyone knew what happened to suspected sympathizers when the Empire caught them. Even if they weren’t guilty, it was unlikely they’d get away with their lives. With Sabine and her team, there was still a chance at survival, and they all appeared more than willing to jump for it.

After piling into the command room where Zeb was waiting, Sabine moved to the Lasat’s side. His green eyes were locked on one of the screens and judging from his body language and the deep frown on his face, he didn’t like what he saw.

“What is it, Zeb?” With a large finger, he pointed and in that instant she knew exactly what he’d meant by trouble. A slim, black-clad figure had just walked into view, her thin lips pulled into a smile. Sabine’s heart dropped as she recognized her.

The Jedi hunter. The Mirialan from Garel.

“Where is she?” she demanded, moving to the controls to see what could be done to slow the Imperial down.

“Next corridor over,” Zeb told her tightly. “Between us and the exit.”

Not good. Not good at all. Sabine’s mind raced. They were trapped. What was difficult about this mission was the singular way in and out of the base, and the only good thing about this situation right now was that the Inquisitor hadn’t found them yet. They needed to get out, get back to the  _Phantom_  and away, but she still remembered this woman and the cool bloodlust she’d shown them on Garel.

If it had just been her, Zeb, and Chopper, then maybe they’d be able to scrape their way out of this. But they had five dependents on their hands as well, and only one of them looked like she might know how to use a blaster. If that Imperial found them, it would be nothing but bad news. But how was she supposed to get them out of this now? What would Hera tell her to do?

Rely on her teammates. That’s what Hera would tell her to do, and right now it wasn’t just her, Zeb, and Chopper here. The Rider was here too, and he was the infamous Reaper’s partner. True, no one knew the full extent of his skill, but someone like the Reaper wouldn’t have chosen an inexperienced and weak partner. They’d been working together for years. Why keep the majority of Rider’s skills secret if the Rider wasn’t some sort of trump card?

If Rider meant it and they really were a team, then that meant that the Rider was _their_ trump card now too. It was likely that he was better equipped to deal with this Inquisitor because he was the Reaper’s partner. The partner of a Force user. At the very least, he shouldn’t be as surprised by anything the Imperial might pull on him.

“What are we doing, Sabine?” Zeb demanded, and she took a breath.

“Chopper, I want you to lock this corridor down for the moment.” The astromech warbled an affirmative before slicing into the system, completing her order. The doors to the corridor and the command center slid shut and locked.

“That won’t stop her,” Zeb said and Sabine nodded.

“I know, but it’s not so much to stop her as to give us time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for our friend to do what he says he’s good at, and get her off our backs,” she replied as she activated the comm. Sabine hoped this would work. This was the only plan she had on the moment’s notice. Though she didn’t fully trust the Rider, she pushed the doubt aside. It was this or nothing. This or capture. This or death.

She knew which she preferred.

“Rider,” Sabine called. “I think we’re going to need your help. Can you come?”

“Sure, I think I can spare a hand. What’s going on in there?” Rider’s voice came through and he at least sounded like he was having a good time. He didn’t even sound winded. If that was the case, it was definitely time that he took on a new challenge. This one, Sabine knew, was out of her league.

But hopefully not out of his.

“It’s an Inquisitor,” she told him, watching on the monitor as the Jedi hunter drew closer, a cruel, waiting smile on her lips. “Rider, we’re stuck. We need you to distract her and draw her away. Right now, we can’t get out.”

* * *

 

A minute ago everything had been going along perfectly. The rescue team was in, he and Rosie were picking off Imperials practically at their leisure, and this small base was starting to turn pretty quiet — with the exception of maybe two well-trained and insistent troopers. He wasn’t really even trying.

And then Sabine had to drop a bomb on him.

“Did you just say there’s an _Inquisitor_ here?” It was a struggle to keep his voice calm and steady, to not lose his Force stealth instantly with the shock. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she told him curtly. “We ran into her on Garel before we found you and the Reaper.”

Ezra’s brow furrowed. Her? A female Inquisitor? But what about the Pau’an? Dread coalesced in his gut.

“Is the other one here?” he asked, the mere thought of the other Inquisitor enough to make him queasy. “The Pau’an?”

“No, we only see the Mirialan,” Sabine told him, and though that news was a relief, there was no telling what this Inquisitor could do, nor if the other one would show up at some point. Although he often thought it was better to face the demon you knew than the demon you didn’t, he knew the Pau’an better than this new player. He also knew which he’d prefer to face now.

“Rider?”

“I’ll be right there,” he said in the comm, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. “Just be ready.”

“Trust me. We were ready five minutes ago.”

Under normal circumstances battle-humor would have at least gotten a chuckle out of him, but the easy-going feeling he’d been cultivating since the mission began was completely overshadowed by deadly caution now. This was no time for fun and games. This was an Inquisitor.

 _If you have to fight one_ , Kanan had told him when he was younger and when the question had come up,  _escape. Immediately. Get away and find me. I’ll take care of them._

Ezra breathed slowly as he shifted on the balls of his feet, his mind whirling to form a plan. Kanan wasn’t here, and he couldn’t run and leave the  _Ghost_  crew or those sympathizers behind. Jedi didn’t do that.

And he wouldn’t.

With a tug in the Force he summoned Rosie, and a moment later she swung up onto his branch with a playful little yowl. Through their connection he could feel just how much she was enjoying this. She was a nexu; she liked hunting, enjoyed fighting. She was a predator, and generally speaking, she was usually the deadliest predator around.

Now he was worried. Taking on stormtroopers was one thing. But an Inquisitor? As much as he wished he could say that between the two of them they were the most formidable beings here, he couldn’t say that now for certain. She might get hurt trying to help him fight the Inquisitor. Ezra didn’t want that to happen.

But he, at least, needed to fight. The others were counting on him to open a hole large enough for them to get out through. For the time being, he might at least be able to protect Rosie until he absolutely needed her. But when he needed her, he would have to use her, even if the risk was great.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Ezra locked eyes with his nexu’s ice blue and held his Force connection with her like reigns.

“Take care of the Imperials that are still here,” he told her, impressing on Rosie the image of stormtroopers and blaster bolts. “Be careful. When you’ve taken care of them, come find me. I might need your help soon.”

She lifted her lips and a small catlike hiss slipped into the air. With her mission implanted in her mind, she sprang away, intent on attacking the remaining Imperials and leaving him free to do what he had to do.

Before he could think about how stupid this was, how dangerous this was, Ezra instead focused on how this was the right thing to do. Then he began to move.

The entry to the base was still open when he got there, and he narrowed his focus in the Force. His opponent stuck out immediately. Sick heat rolled from the darksider like a billowing wave of exhaust, but it wasn’t as potent as the other Inquisitor’s had been. It was a little sharper, true, but it wasn’t as strong. That was a tiny bit of relief.

Not as much as he’d have liked, though.

Despite his uncertainty, he plunged into the corridors. This Inquisitor must have noticed his approach because instead of proceeding in the direction she’d been moving, she shifted toward him. As he rounded the corner, his heart cooled with determination. He had to be on his game and any mistakes now would cost him badly. It would cost Kanan badly. The rebellion badly. This wasn’t a time to mess up.

So, somehow, he wouldn’t.

They both stopped on opposite ends of the corridor, and his first impression of this Inquisitor was both unassuming and unnerving. Clothed in skintight black armor, she looked too slight to be of any real threat. But when he caught her yellow eyes, filled with cruel, amused malevolence, he knew better to think that he could accurately judge her based on what she looked like. She was dangerous. Everything about her was dangerous, and the smirk that pulled onto her lips made the hair on the back of his neck rise under his hood.

“Be ready,” he whispered into his comm, unwilling to take his eyes off of this woman for an instant. The sound of Sabine’s voice responding registered in his ear, but he didn’t know what she said. It was lost when the Inquisitor began to speak.

“What luck I have,” she said in a smooth, melodic tone. “I was so disappointed that we didn’t get the chance to meet a few days ago, and here I am now, with a second chance!” Her smile pulled wider, and it looked terrifying on her lips. “Where’s your partner, Rider? The Reaper is the one I’m more interested to meet, you know. Sorry.” The Inquisitor reached behind herself to pull out a circular contraption, and he watched a second later as she activated an angry red lightsaber, identical to the one the other Inquisitor had used. “I’m sure you know that he and I have so much in common.”

Ezra didn’t open his mouth though he was sorely tempted to. Under other circumstances he’d run his mouth quick, but now wasn’t the time. She was baiting him, and any slip up was an opening. She couldn’t use an opening if he didn’t give her one. It was one of the first things Kanan had taught him. Keep his mouth shut in battle. Don’t unwittingly supply the enemy with information or ammunition that could be used against him.

Instead he channeled the urge into the grip of his lightsaber pistol hidden under his cloak, and readied himself.

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened when it was clear he wasn’t going to say a thing. “Nothing to say, Rider? They’d told me you were a quiet one, but I’m sure if we get to know each other a little better I can loosen your tongue. I’m actually quite nice, once you’re my friend.”

“I’m sure.” The words slipped out past his control, and her lips pulled up again. She looked horrific.

“You can speak! Just wonderful,” the Inquisitor said before her eyes turned icy. “That means that I can make you talk. And once I have you, I’ll be able to draw out that partner of yours, won’t I? I’ll make you tell me where he is, or you’ll scream so loudly he’ll come on his own.”

The urge to respond was again strong, but after his first mistake he bit his tongue. Then Ezra lifted his blaster and fired.

Ezra wished he could say that the battle ended there, that his bolt landed true and had eliminated the threat, but he wasn’t surprised when she blocked it. Neither was he surprised that, within a handful of seconds, the Inquisitor had already danced from her end of the corridor to his, leaving a plethora of burning scars on the walls around them. With quick steps and an even quicker trigger finger, he retreated as part of the plan. If he could lead her out and away, that freed the others to make their escape. For now, it appeared to be a working strategy.

After that … after that he didn’t know. He was still making up the plan. He’d figure something out when he got that far.

“Your reflexes are impressive,” the Inquisitor praised as she dove toward him. It was only through tiny tweaks in the Force that he’d been able to flip out of the way in time. The closeness of her attack made his heartbeat skitter. He’d been close enough to feel the heat of her blade as it arched for his leg, the sound of it loud in his ears. “Perhaps that’s to be expected with a Jedi as a partner.”

If she’d expected him to falter, to mess up at the implication that Kanan was a Jedi, then she was wrong. Since Kanan had trained him, his movements were as sure and clean as ever, even as he continued to retreat and dodge. Regardless, it was a relief when he felt the sweat on his brow cool as fresh air swept around him. The external lights of the base fell over them both. He dashed away into open ground, and she followed after with obsessive eagerness.

“Now!” he hissed into his comm, taking cover behind a boulder near a small pool of Imperial speeders as he composed his mind. “Make it quick! I don’t know how long I can keep her occupied.”

A bulky figure skidded to his side so closely that he felt her quills attempt to dig into his armor, and he was relieved to see Rosie. Beside him she looked so big and strong. With her help, they might get an upper hand. That lightsaber was a problem, but it was possible that he and Rosie could find a way past her defenses. They were fast and strong, and together they might be able to do this. He wouldn’t have risked it with the Pau’an Inquisitor, but this one?

“Ready, girl?” he asked as he climbed onto her back, and she crouched in preparation. “Let’s go.”

Through his bond he fed her his commands, and she sprung like a coiled spring from their hiding place. He rained bolts down on the Inquisitor, throwing one of Sabine’s grenades at the same time, and he blasted it the moment it was within range. The woman tucked and rolled out of the way, missing it completely, but by then Rosie had already landed. Situated on her back, they raced toward the woman with Rosie’s jaws wide, screeching with the attack. Her split tail whipped the air punishingly.

The Inquisitor snarled and dashed away, managing to miss Rosie’s teeth, but not her claws. They sunk into her arm, deep but clearly not enough to make her stop. With a harsh Force push, she sent Ezra sprawling from Rosie’s back. The bond wobbled for a moment and Rosie attacked again with the ferocity of a young nexu, but it lacked his control. The attack was transparent, and this time the Inquisitor was ready. She slashed at Rosie and missed, but as a surprise attack, small balls of metal flew forward from her hand.

Rosie yowled as she clawed at her face and the air as small seeker droids attacked her. In the distraction, the Inquisitor used the Force to send the nexu flying, forcing her to collide with one of the many boulders around them. Before Ezra could shout or lift his hand to soften her landing with the Force, it was too late. Ezra’s heart sank when he heard the hard thud that resulted in Rosie wavering to her feet, before listing to the side and collapsing. It was only through the Force bond that he was sure that she hadn’t been killed by the attack. It was lax with unconsciousness, but it hadn’t disappeared.

That didn’t stop the deep concern from burning in his soul, but much as he wanted to check on her, he couldn’t. Not now. The Inquisitor was coming again, but she paused when figures began bolting across the field from the base’s interior. The Imperial rounded her eyes on him.

“I see,” she purred. “This was all just a distraction. Well played.” Her commendations meant nothing to him, and his breath froze in his chest when he felt her intentions in the Force. “How about I play with them too?”

She jumped into the air and used her lightsaber to buoy her as those tiny seeker droids now raced at him. Quickly he aimed and fired, destroying two of the three as he took off after her, but that third one landed on him and began squeezing and shocking, making hell of his life.

With a scowl he grabbed it in the Force and crushed its internal circuits, causing it to go limp before he threw it to the side with a gesture of his hand. Unfortunately, it had been enough of a distraction to let the Inquisitor close the distance. Her red blade was already raised, in spite of the bolts Sabine and Zeb were firing her way. She just blocked them to the side and as she descended, one of the rebellion sympathizers fell within range of that spinning red blade. She would die if he didn’t do something.

The Force welled up in him with a surge, breaking through his Force stealth.

“No!”

Pressed by the odds and left with nothing but his trump card up his sleeve, he lifted his hand and used the Force to shove the Inquisitor away. Her black form sprawled, midair, until it collided with the cliff wall. The suddenness of his attack left her dazed, but it had also frozen the others in their tracks as well. They stared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief and Ezra’s heart hammered in his chest. This was their chance to escape and they were _wasting time_.

“Go!”

The familiar sound of a lightsaber flying rapidly through the air made him react instinctively, and with a snap-hiss he activated his own lightsaber to deflect it. Brilliant blue clashed with violent red, and that circular saber soared back into the air before making its way to the Inquisitor’s hand.

Her yellow eyes were practically aglow.

“Well, this is a splendid surprise,” the Inquisitor said with her crooning, melodic tone. “We’d long expected the Reaper to be a Force user, but you as well?” She smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty smile. It put Ezra on edge. “A master and an apprentice. How rare. I have to admit that your Force stealth is impressive. You had us completely fooled.”

Ezra bit his tongue again to the point he tasted blood to keep from saying a word. Instead he lifted his saber and prepared for the fight that was about to come. Something about the situation must have shocked Sabine from her momentary stupor because she was once again leading the others away into the trees, in the direction of the waiting  _Phantom_. The sound of the ship gearing up was all Ezra needed to know that Chopper already had it ready. It was just a matter of getting the others boarded and in the air. Ezra could hold out that long.

He’d have to.

The Inquisitor advanced. “You know, you don’t have to work with them. This doesn’t have to be a battle. If you wanted, young Padawan, you could join us. The Empire.”

“The dark side, you mean,” Ezra bit out, finally losing his silence and beyond the point of caring about it. “I don’t think so.”

The woman eyed him curiously, tilting her head as her lightsaber began spinning in a circular wave of red light. “You’re not like him, are you? The Reaper. The Grand Inquisitor told me that there was some potential in him, potential to join the dark side.” She hummed at him thoughtfully. “I sense none of that in you.”

“That’s because there isn’t any,” he told her. “I’m not joining you, and neither will he.”

“Why don’t we test that theory?” she proposed. “I think you’re telling the truth. You might not be swayed. But what might happen to someone like the Reaper, if his Padawan was taken by the Empire? Tortured?” The Mirialan’s lips pulled into a deadly smile. “Killed even?”

Ezra threw everything he had into controlling his Force expression because he didn’t want her to pick up on the cold fear that iced in his blood at the mere thought of that. Kanan was already so close to the brink, what might happen if this Inquisitor did take him? Do everything she said she might do to him?

He felt for a moment that he was on the brink of something, but the Inquisitor didn’t give him the time to think it through. Without warning she attacked and Ezra grunted as their blades crossed, sparking before glowing red and blue light began painting the air around them. This … this was intense, and so different from the way Kanan fought. Kanan was dark and deadly strength. Lethal skill. Though this woman wasn’t as skilled as Kanan, she possessed a style which was much more difficult to read, and slightly chaotic. Ezra could easily block, but he was having a hard time finding an opening. Thankfully, right now that didn’t much matter. Keeping this up to buy time for the others did.

With the tiny bit of spare attention he had, Ezra found through his Force bond with Rosie that she’d shaken off the blow the Inquisitor had stunned her with, and was about to spring on the woman again. As tempting as it was to let her, he held her back and impressed on her the need to guard the others instead, not him. The push-back was immediate. She didn’t want to listen, he was important, but his will was stronger and she submitted to him reluctantly and withdrew. Without her around, he didn’t have to spare his attention worrying. He could focus.

“Look at you,” the Inquisitor hissed. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages. I might not kill you after all. What do you think about becoming by pet? Do you think your master would mind if I took you from him? It’s true I have a firm hand, but only if you misbehave.” She hammered him with a devastating blow that made his knees ache. “I imagine you’re probably the type to give me trouble though.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he growled with hard eyes as he flipped away before dashing around to flank her. The maneuver was mildly effective, and in the corner of his sight he saw the shape of the  _Phantom_  rise from the forest into the air. Rosie was yowling, racing back to him now that her task was complete. Good. Now he just needed to find a way to get himself and Rosie on board. That was all that was left.

“We’re ready when you are, Rider!” Sabine told him in the comm. “Hurry up.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” the Inquisitor promised, close enough to hear the tiny voice of Sabine. “Remember? You’re going to be my pet now. I can’t let you get away before I’ve even collared you.”

Though it chilled him to admit it, right now, the Inquisitor had a point. With her on him like she was, there was no way he could get away without risking all of their lives first. For the moment, he was stuck.

“Go!” he barked at them between blocks and dodges, sweat rolling down his spine. “Get everyone to safety. I’ll be fine!”

Sabine’s voice was tight and chiding in the comm. “Rider!”

“Just go!” Ezra shouted as he Force shoved the Inquisitor and her burning red blade off and several feet away, creating breathing room. “I’ll handle her. Just get the others to safety!”

A response came through but he couldn’t comprehend it. It was hard to focus on them when the Inquisitor was launching herself at him again.

* * *

 

The  _Phantom_  hovered in the air, indecision written on Sabine’s face from where she sat at the controls. They still hadn’t left yet, even after the Rider had told them to go. They were just hanging there like targets, waiting for that Red Blade to get to them.

Zeb was just as conflicted. Leave the punk. Don’t leave the punk. He was a punk and a pain in his side, and that alone was more than enough to cast a vote to leave. But despite his arrogant and annoying punk nature, the Rider had been there for them. He’d been the distraction for the stormtroopers they’d needed to get into the base, and he’d been the distraction they’d needed to get out and away from that Red Blade.

The Red Blade he was still fighting, using a bright blue blade of light of his own.

Echoes of Zeb’s past, of being the last of his race plowed into him as he remembered what had happened to those mythical Jedi. Their purge. Their genocide. He didn’t know if the Rider was one of them, but he looked like what Zeb imagined one would look like. In that moment the choice was made for him, like it or not.

He did not like it.

“Karabast!”

Zeb stepped to the edge of the  _Phantom_ , the wind whipping at his exposed skin. They weren’t too high up yet and, pulling his bo-rifle off his back, he leapt off. The ground met him and he had his rifle raised to start shooting at the Inquisitor’s blind side, mind already battle focused and ready for the fray.

“Zeb! What are you doing?” Sabine demanded. Zeb violently waved her on between volleys.

“Go! I’m going to get him and his giant tooka. I’ll let you know when I’ve got them and where to meet us.”

“Be careful!” she yelled as the  _Phantom_  rose, the back-hatch closing. Zeb took a deep breath through his nose before he narrowed his eyes and ran toward the nearest cover, diving as his shot was returned right back where he’d only just been.

“What are you doing?” demanded the Rider as he weaved around the Red Blade so fast it was hard for Zeb to track. “Go! It’s not safe!”

“I’m not leaving without you and your damn beast!” he barked back, taking a shot at the Red Blade. “Now hurry up and get rid of her. We need to go!”

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve by now?” the Rider demanded angrily before gasping. Zeb cringed as he saw the Rider narrowly miss a blow across his chest. That cloak he wore now had a giant smoking hole across it, but it didn’t look like it had hit him. The punk cursed before barking into the comm, “I’m open to suggestions!”

Zeb scanned around for something, anything, and his eyes landed on several Imperial speeders parked nearby. About now he would usually get Sabine to give him a few of her grenades, but since she wasn’t here, he’d have to make do. It was good that he always carried a spare bomb for her, just in case.

Moving as fast as he could, he holstered his bo-rifle, mounted a speeder, and stuck the bomb on the front. This was stupid. This was absolutely _crazy_ , but it was the best he had, and maybe, just maybe, it might work.

“Hold her still!” he told the Rider. “I’m coming in fast.”

The Rider didn’t respond but his movements condensed and the light-wielding crazies weren’t bouncing around as much. Zeb would have preferred a more stable target, but again, he’d make do.

The speeder screamed as he hit the throttle and flew like a missile at the Red Blade. Zeb wasn’t sure how all this Force nonsense worked, but he figured that it came down to the same thing anything else did. Concentration. If that punk could hold her concentration on him long enough, she might not notice the bomb on its way to do her in, and—

“Rider!” he warned before Zeb launched himself off the speeder just as the grenade at the front began to blink red rapidly. The Rider waited till the very last moment to leap away, and the speeder-born grenade activated just as it struck the Imperial.

The resulting blast made the Rider stumble and fall, becoming momentarily swallowed in the ensuing cloud of thick smoke, but it was nothing like what had happened to the Red Blade. It had been a direct hit. The explosion had sent her flying to the ground again, only this time she didn’t move. She didn’t twitch. She just continued to lay there.

The nexu nearby screeched, clearly thinking about sinking its teeth into the woman, but as the smoke faded away, the Rider came back into view. He stumbled to his feet before lifting a hand in its direction. The nexu immediately stilled, then turned and bounded quickly over to the Rider, nudging him up with the side of its massive head. He was coughing, coughing hard, and he ripped off the half-mask as he struggled to breath.

Zeb’s face fell with horror.

“You’re just a kid?”

“Not now, Zeb,” the kid said between coughs as he stumbled forward before gaining strength and shifting into a run. “We need to go, before she wakes up again.”

Remembering the fallen Red Blade, he realized the Rider was right. That made things simple again. Zeb ran with the Rider before they both hopped on the remaining speeders and plunged into the forest. The nexu took to the trees, swinging rapidly into the darkness by means of its claws and its long, whip-like split tail.

The comm crackled between them and Sabine’s voice was there.

“Where are you guys?” she demanded. “I’m back and ready. Can you get away?” After an encounter with that Red Blade, Sabine’s voice was like music to him. Practically the voice of an angel.

“We’ve got away. Sending you our coordinates now,” Zeb told her as they flew through the forest. He steered around several clusters of trees that jutted out of the ground like intentional obstacles with the Rider making his own way to the left of him.

“Got them. I’ll be right there.”

“Just hurry. We don’t know when they’ll start coming after us again,” the Rider told her. His blue eyes were hard. His young face was filled with concentration.

“Like I said, I’ll be right there. There’s a clearing not far ahead of you on your right. That’s where I’ll be.”

Now that the danger was sort of behind them, even if they were still running for their lives, Zeb couldn’t stop from filling the silence.

“So you’re a kid? And a Jedi?” The kid shot him a glare from atop his speeder. “You know, those sorts of things are what you should tell people before a mission.”

“Sorry for not being so up front,” the kid said sarcastically. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got any secrets to keep.” The upper half of his face was soot stained while the lower half looked clean and bright in comparison, where that half-mask of his had kept it safe. He looked kind of ridiculous and Zeb still couldn’t get over the fact that the infamous Rider was nothing more than a kid. Couldn’t be older than Sabine, and he’d been doing this kind of work for five years now? This kid was either suicidal or he had a real bone to pick with the Empire.

Zeb shook his head. Everything had turned upside down ever since they took on this recruitment mission. Force wielding vigilante assassins? A kid who could control a nexu with his mind? Zeb couldn’t make stuff like this up. What other tricks were these two going to pull out of their sleeves?

Hopefully not too many. He hoped that Hera was having better luck with her new ‘partner’ than they were, given the nonsense they’d only barely avoided.

The  _Phantom_  was waiting for them, just like Sabine had promised, and he’d never been so happy to see it. They abandoned the speeders and he, the kid, and that nexu bound on board. The back-hatch went down immediately, and in an instant Sabine was up in the air. Zeb collapsed onto one of the hanging seats across from the Rider.

“Did anyone follow you guys?”

“No. We made it out,” Zeb told her as he took a slow, calming breath, thankful for it.

“And the Red Blade?”

“Don’t know. Zeb hit her with a speeder rigged with one of your explosives. It knocked her out,” the kid sighed, as he pulled down his hood, running a hand through his short, black hair. “But I don’t think it killed her.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to be dead right now for us to get out of here,” Sabine said coolly as she focused on flying away and to the safety of the  _Ghost_  above. “Just hang tight.”

“Hanging,” the kid said with a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat, letting the back of his head rest against the wall. His eyes closed with relief. “Trust me, I’m hanging. Don’t want to go back down there again.”

Zeb lifted his eyes to catch Sabine’s surprised brown as she looked at the Rider. She flashed an inquiring look at Zeb, and he shrugged in response. The revelation that this punk kid was the infamous Rider had blind-sided him just as much.

“Just so you guys know,” Rider said without opening his eyes. “I don’t need to be looking at you to know that you’re staring at me.”

“Can you blame us?” Sabine asked, facing forward again. “No one expected the Rider to be, well, you.”

“Nothing wrong with being me,” the Rider said. “Being me is what saved all of your lives.”

The Rider opened his eyes again before reaching a hand out for his nexu. It had curled up at his feet on the floor with its tail wrapped around one of his calves. It’s pale blue eyes were still narrowed and waiting, but it seemed to calm with every stroke of the kid’s hand over its quills.

“Well I can’t argue with that,” Sabine admitted. “You really saved us back there.”

Zeb grunted in agreement. “Much as I hate to admit it … it’s true.” He turned his head and locked his green eyes on the Rider’s blue. “Good job, Rider.”

“Ezra,” Rider corrected with a small smile. “My name’s Ezra.” The kid turned his head to look at him. “And you all saved me too. After everything that happened, I think we’re kinda on a first name basis now.”

Zeb stared for a moment before he shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation, and grinned.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

* * *

 

Ezra reclined in the nose gunner’s seat looking out at the multitude of stars, and idly allowed a hand to slip along Rosie’s head. His mind was still reeling, even after several hours of safety. They’d done it. They’d pulled the mission off.

On top of that, he’d faced an Inquisitor and, though he’d had help, he’d survived. They all had. Now the rebellion sympathizers were on a ship to safety, away from the clutches of the Empire. They’d done that. He’d been a part of that.

This was what it felt like to be a part of something bigger.

“You all right there, kid?”

Zeb poked his head in, being careful to keep well away from Rosie. Ezra was tempted to tell him he didn’t need to bother. Whenever they entered deep space he often enticed her into a deep sleep. But it was too much fun to tease the Lasat, and Ezra was in a great mood.

He smiled at Zeb and marveled at the fact that he could do it now without the mask in the way.

“Yeah, I’m all right. Just … thinking. Looking at the stars. Everyone safe and sound?”

“We just got news that the rebellion has them safe.”

“Good,” Ezra said. Warmth and pride filled him.

“Still can’t believe a kid like you is the infamous Rider,” grumped Zeb as he crossed his arms, and Ezra’s smile turned into a grin.

“Well what can I say? If everyone knew the truth, can you imagine the number of fans I’d have hounding me all the time?”

“The only fans you have are bucketheads,” grunted Zeb in bland response.

A change had undergone the entire crew once they’d all gotten safely away. The animosity that had run between him and Zeb had mellowed out. They were picking at each other, sure, but there wasn’t the same sort of hostility as there had been. Fighting their way to freedom together seemed to have taken that hostile edge away. Now it really was more like teasing. Like joking. He was usually only like this with Kanan and Proxy. Now he was this way with Zeb too.

Ezra found he liked it.

Before the Lasat could come up with a comeback, a colorful, slim figure appeared just behind Zeb.

“Hey, can you two come up for a second?” Sabine asked quietly as she also eyed Rosie’s sleeping form. “There’s something you need to see.”

Ezra caught the way her eyes landed on him too, tracing the entirety of his face. He hadn’t actually put his mask back on since they’d made it to safety, though he’d been sure to keep his face shrouded so the sympathizers wouldn’t get a good look. With the crew however, he felt it was pointless to put it back on again. After all, they’d seen his face, and it would send the wrong message if he did; that he didn’t trust them. And he did, now. They could have sacrificed him to the Inquisitor and gotten away, but they hadn’t. They’d stayed when they hadn’t had to. Zeb, of all people, was the one who’d come back to help.

Kanan would hate this, would hate everything about this, but Ezra didn’t. He didn’t regret a single thing.

Zeb’s brow crinkled. “What is it?”

“Just come on,” the Mandalorian insisted before she turned her brown eyes on Ezra’s, lifting an eyebrow at him, then at Rosie. “Is she going to be all right there by herself for a little while?”

“She’ll be fine,” Ezra told Sabine as he heaved himself up and followed them into the galley. AP-5 and Chopper were already there, and at their arrival the astromech swiveled and waved his small metal arms, chittering in binary.

“Just show them what AP found, Chop,” Sabine told the droid from where she stood beside Ezra.

“I can tell you now, you won’t like it,” AP-5 proclaimed. “I feel it’s important to inform you that in terms of stealth, together you are all abysmal. You might as well have had a spotlight on you the whole time.”

“Can it, Tinman!” Zeb grunted. “Your job in this was easy. You just had to wait here and monitor transmissions.”

“Believe me, I monitored them,” AP-5 droned. “All of them, to which there were a truly staggering amount. If I’d known ahead of time that you’d all planned to make a spectacle of this, I’d have been more prepared than I was.”

Ezra’s brow furrowed as suspicions began to build in his mind. His mood dipped a little and he frowned.

“What got out?”

AP-5 turned his metal head to him before giving a very audible, mechanical sigh. “I managed to stop all of the initial transmissions, but it was toward the end of the battle, after you all escaped, that the information load became unmanageable.”

Chopper warbled in agreement before he flicked on his holoprojectors, and in the middle of the room a small sequence of footage began to play itself out in the air. Ezra watched uneasily as he saw himself and Rosie bounding across the area outside of the base, engaging the Inquisitor. He saw the others firing at her before they got the sympathizers to safety.

Then he saw the bright flash of his lightsaber as he activated it, and he cringed. The battle continued on for at least fifteen seconds more before the footage cut out again. Chopper began replaying it. Ezra stared at AP-5.

“How far has it gotten out?”

“Imperial channels only, as far as I can determine,” AP-5 replied. “I’d calculated your chances of remaining unnoticed through the mission much higher than I clearly should have. If I’d known this was about to happen, I’d have recommended you make alternative plans.”

“Well, we couldn’t have accounted for a Jedi hunter,” Sabine muttered. “It wasn’t in the intel Fulcrum gave us.” She looked at Ezra uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Ezra. None of us meant for this to happen.”

Ezra watched himself again on the projection, jumping, using his lightsaber, deflecting attacks as the main group got away. He eventually sighed and gave her a small smile.

“Like you said, we hadn’t known the Inquisitor would be there, and plans always go sideways. What’s important is that we saved those sympathizers. They’re safe and alive because of us.”

“Yeah, but to do it you had to out yourself,” Sabine pointed out. “No one except the Reaper knew you were a Force user, did they?”

Ezra shrugged. Sure, it was unnerving now that the Empire knew the truth about him. Right now he felt a lot like he was wandering around naked and everyone could see him for who he really was.

But … maybe that was a good thing? Maybe it was time that people started seeing the truth the Rider hid. At the very least, he was glad that he wouldn’t have to pretend so much anymore.

At least, here he didn’t.

“The truth was probably going to come out at some point,” Ezra finally admitted. “Reaper and I always knew we were lucky for having kept it a secret for so long.” He grinned at all of them. “Besides, I’m training to be a Jedi. I’m supposed to use my abilities to help people. As far as I’m concerned, I did the right thing.”

Though he truly believed it, he also knew that Kanan wouldn’t see it the same way.

“Well,” Zeb said as he continued to watch the projection. “If Hera’s keeping an eye on the news reports, she’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

“And so will the Reaper,” Ezra added glumly. No way was Kanan going to miss this either. Ezra was going to hear about it the next time he saw his master. Sabine, though, gave him a supportive, approving smile, and that alone would make the chewing out he knew he would receive when he saw his master again that much easier to bear.

He still might count himself lucky if he ever left the temple barracks again, though. He might even need a medbay for the training-punishment he was likely to receive.

But even so, Ezra didn’t regret it. Right now five people were safe from the Empire, and he’d been a part of what had set them free. It wasn’t like with the Wookiees on Kessel, or any other time he’d saved someone as the Rider. This time, the secrecy had been destroyed. He hadn’t been some invisible wraith following after the Reaper, mysterious and undefinable.

Today, Ezra had redefined the Rider. He was a character for good, for what the Republic had once stood for. For what the Jedi had stood for.

And now the galaxy would know it.

“You sure you’re okay with all this?” Sabine asked, and Ezra smiled, his heart lifting.

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitating. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, maybe not as explosive as I’d originally anticipated, but fun nonetheless right? Lots of action, anyway, which come on. We all saw that coming. The crew is like a powder keg. But it did make for good crew bonding moments here. I hoped you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought.
> 
> Sorry for missing last week's post! I didn’t have as much time to work on Blackbird as I’d have liked last week, due to work and time constraints, but that should even out here in the next few weeks. The next chapter’s almost finished so you can expect an update next Friday. On that note, whenever I do happen to miss a posting I’ll be using [my tumblr](http://okadiah.tumblr.com/) account to let you all know, so I'd check that. I'll be using it for general progress reports as well and, if people are interested, maybe I’ll post some tidbits too. 
> 
> Now, didn’t I say dancing was in the future? And who doesn't want to see our two leads in evening wear?


	12. Gala

Hera resisted the urge to tug at the high collar of her dress as she worked out the final touches. In ideal circumstances, the dress she’d have chosen would have been something simple and elegant, strapless with a skirt that afforded ample movement. Unfortunately, there was still prominent bruising around her neck and she’d been forced to choose this sophisticated high collared, sleeveless dress with its long skirt and open back. In truth she rather liked it, and knew she was lucky to have found it on such short notice, but the _collar_. It wasn’t overly snug, but her throat could have done without the agitation.

She slipped a gleaming bracelet on her wrist and pulled a lek over her shoulder. It would stay right there for the rest of the evening, a living adornment — one she knew from experience always caught the eye. Again she checked her reflection and was reluctantly impressed by what she saw.

A beautiful green Twi’lek woman stared back in shimmering midnight blue that clung to her body and made her look transcendent and rich. With the strappy silver heels she’d put on, heels she knew no one was going to see due to the length of the dress, she stood several inches taller than normal. Through the hour of work she’d slaved meticulously over, the markings on her lekku were hidden away with special makeup designed specifically for moments such as these, and her face looked polished and alluring. If she walked into this art gala tonight and didn’t turn heads, her ego would take a solid blow.

Hera stared at the woman in the mirror and already couldn’t wait for the evening to be over with. This wasn’t who she was, this beautiful, sophisticated, polished woman. She was a pilot and a rebellion operative. A fighter. The woman facing her now looked as if the hardest thing she ever did was go on vacation.

The thought made her chuckle. Vacation. That was a laugh. Still, she had to admit she looked good.

She wondered what Kanan would think.

With feather light touches she checked that the few weapons she was taking with her were still cleverly concealed. It was unlikely that she’d need them, but she wasn’t stupid. It was always better to be prepared. Just in case.

“You decent?”

Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, Hera looked over her shoulder and saw Kanan’s silhouette lingering at the bottom of the stairs leading to the cockpit of the  _Kasmiri_. They were already traveling lightspeed on their way to the gala and had taken the time in flight to dress before they dropped out. Hera had commandeered the crew quarter’s section of the ship as her dressing room while Kanan took the holding bay. White and blue hues of light bathed Kanan’s dark silhouette in an aura, and she gestured him closer.

“Decent enough. Come on. Let’s have a look at you to make sure you’re color coordinated.”

“Funny,” he said with the faintest touch of amusement as he stepped up into the cabin space and into the light. “Believe it or not, I can distinguish color.”

“Really?” She saw that he was, indeed, color coordinated. But coordinating a black suit and a white dress shirt wasn’t exactly impressive. “I just figured if everything you wore was black, then you’d never have to worry about accidental color catastrophes. Your Force sight is that sensitive?”

Kanan hummed in the same sort of semi-distant tone he’d been using with her ever since Vizago had given them the mission. He’d been warmer since the incident with the scythe, but she still sensed his reluctance. They still didn’t know quite how to treat each other. In the light now, their eyes locked and it suddenly seemed as if the air left the ship, plunging her into a vacuum. He looked away, but an amused half-smirk slipped onto his lips.

“What? Didn’t think I cleaned up so well, did you? Keep staring like that and you’re going to make me blush.”

Hera hardly heard him. She was speechless, and she didn’t care that she was so openly staring. It was hard not to, not when his eyes were undeniably blue. Blue, surrounded by unscarred, tan skin.

But she wasn’t the only one staring speechlessly either.

“Wow. Hera …” Kanan’s voice trailed off as admiration wrote itself across his face honestly before he blinked and appeared to realize what he was doing. That look of open enthrallment replaced itself with a distanced, polite grin as he looked away. “You look great.”

Hera heard the complement but it hardly mattered to her. Instead, suspicion ate at her and without thinking she stretched a hand out to grasp Kanan’s wrist. Her breath caught when she found nothing but warm, firm skin under her palm, and Kanan’s distanced grin turned teasing.

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t think I’d cleaned up so well you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

A blush burned across her cheeks and she dropped her hold.

“Sorry. I was just checking to make sure it was you and not Proxy in disguise.” Hera pursed her lips and stared pointedly at his eyes as she lifted her chin, forcing her embarrassment away. “You can’t blame me when you pull out old eyes you insisted were never real in the first place.”

Questions raced through her mind. What was this? How …  _how_? He was _blind_ , she knew he was blind. But those blue eyes were jarring, and it was hard to cognitively know the truth when she was faced with a familiar blue lie. It was a lie, wasn’t it? But  _how_? This was too discrete and believable to be the work of makeup and contact lenses. Something else then. It had to be something else. But what?

A notion struck her. What if it was real and the lie had been the blindness?

“Well, I never said they weren’t real,” Kanan said, ignorant of the maelstrom in her mind. “And we left Proxy behind, remember. We didn’t switch while you weren’t looking, in case you were wondering.” Kanan’s eyebrow lifted. “Don’t you like them? I thought they’d put you at ease, seeing them again.”

Hera glared, then decided to go on the offensive and test one of her theories. “I’d say you thought wrong. Are you sure you can distinguish color? Because honestly, the red is off-putting.”

Kanan’s eyes widened as his smirk fell. “They’re red?” His brow furrowed and he cursed, his gaze drawing in like it did when she thought he was consulting the Force. “You’re sure? That can’t be right. They’re blue. I can feel the blue—”

Hera’s reassured sigh was audible as it slipped into the air and cut him off. He really was blind. That was the true Kanan.

Oddly enough, she was relieved by the fact.

“Relax, Kanan. They’re blue.” The man shot her a look that told her he hadn’t appreciated the trick, and she shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not,” he replied, eyeing her. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”

A scoff slipped from her throat. “Me? Give the infamous Reaper a heart attack?” Hera chuckled. “I didn’t realize you were so feeble.”

“You almost made me believe that we’d have to make major adjustments to the mission over a simple matter of eye color.” He sighed, and with it his caution seemed to slip away as he let it go. He gave her a small smile. “Besides, when you’re dressed like that, any man would be feeble.”

Hera lifted an eyebrow, even as her lips tugged up.

“Didn’t realize you could see beauty too, Kanan. For a blind man, you’re not very blind.”

“I don’t need working eyes to know when something’s beautiful. Or someone.”

There was something in the way he’d said that, the way she suspected he’d meant it, that made her unsure what to say. Instead she gave him a small twirl. “No stray details I missed?”

Kanan scrutinized her from top to bottom. Where the first time he’d appraised her, there had been that look of open admiration, this appraisal was nothing except cool efficiency for the mission’s sake. But when he was done, he grinned at her. “If you don’t stop traffic tonight, there’s no saving the galaxy. Now, give me a once over?”

Hera tilted her head to the side after she’d motioned him fully into the light, and with her sharp eyes she found no flaws. Even with her heels, he was still taller than her, and under those blue eyes it was hard not to feel a little embarrassed about the way her eyes lingered on the smooth line of his shoulders, or his trimmed beard. His well-fitted suit or his carefully tied ponytail. He looked as polished as she did, with a dash of rugged flare she couldn’t quite ignore.

She reached up to straighten his narrow black tie. It was off just a smidge.

“Presentable,” Hera replied in verdict as she smoothed the tie down and took some quiet pleasure at the feel of his warm chest underneath. Hera let her hand drop. “Well enough to make me stand out properly, anyway.”

“Good.” He nodded to the cockpit. “Pretty sure we’re about to drop out of hyperspace soon.” With a hand he helped her down the grated steps, and without hesitation Hera moved toward the pilot’s seat.

“Are you going to be able to fly dressed like that?” Kanan asked as he followed after.

“Careful, Kanan,” she told him smoothly over her shoulder. “I may be dressed like a doll, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less than I am. I have a few very unconventional weapons on my person right now, and you might not want to tempt me with the possibility of doing this mission on my own.”

“I’m sure you could,” he replied easily. “I was just trying to be a gentleman. I’m more than happy to fly us if you’d prefer not to.”

“Like hell I’m letting you fly me anywhere,” she scoffed as she slipped into the pilot’s seat. “In case you forgot, flying is what I do. I can fly anywhere dressed in anything, thank you. Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t know you were blind the first time you flew me around. I’d have tossed you out of the seat.”

“Which time? Garel, or Gorse?”

She groaned. Right. The little fact that his blindness extended back apparently well into the past slipped to the front of her mind again.

“Both. I can’t believe you were flying explosives _blind_.”

“I was the safest pilot there. Besides, even blind I have better sight than you. You can’t see in all directions at the same time, I bet.”

“No,” she agreed as she prepped the  _Kasmiri_. “But I imagine that’s disorienting. I’ll trust my limited vision, thanks. Hasn’t let me down yet.”

“All right,” Kanan chuckled. “While we have the time, let’s run through the plan again.” Hera rolled her eyes.

“Do you do this with the Rider too? Run through the plan a hundred times?”

“Maybe only fifty times.”

“I’ve got it, Kanan,” Hera assured. “It’s a simple distraction mission. I’ll keep Mitchell occupied while you get the prototype. Then we leave. It’s not that hard.”

And it really wasn’t that hard, but she knew why he was insistent like this. Though they had natural chemistry working together, they’d never carried out something like this before; planned ahead. The times they’d worked together in the past had been plans made on-the-fly. They’d been forced to trust each other because there was no alternative. No time.

Now there was plenty of time — to think, to worry — and he wasn’t the only one a little uncertain about how a mission of this type might play out between them. A few minutes with Vizago, a smuggler, was one thing. An entire evening at a high-society gala was another entirely.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re confident in the plan.”

Hera snorted at him. “I don’t think it’s me you’re trying to reassure.”

Kanan shrugged and the flash of his blue eyes caught her attention again. For days they’d been milky and unfocused and real. Looking at them now was like looking at a lie. A fabrication, just like the makeup that hid away her lekku marks. Strangely, she missed the milky white of his blind eyes and the scar that ran across his face. Those blues made her feel like she was with an imposter. The unfocused white was honest.

The alarm indicating they were exiting hyperspace sounded, and as the glow of lightspeed vanished they breathed in unison. A small, lush planet sat before them like a pretty glass marble, and what spare time they’d had was up. It was game time now.

After providing the clearance codes which came with the invitations Kanan had managed to secure, even on such short notice, Hera deftly guided the  _Kasmiri_  into the opulent landing bay owned by the art museum. It was being used exclusively for the gala and its guests tonight, and though a valet service was offered, Hera declined. Once the ship was situated, they both waited for the ramp to go down. Kanan offered her his arm and a charming smile, and the sign that their charade was about to begin.

“Ready, Mr. Soryn Raloh?” Hera asked pleasantly, planting the alias on her tongue. Kanan gave her a grin that sent her mind back all the way to Gorse, and the charismatic gunslinger she’d met there.

“Of course, Mrs. Raloh.” They’d decided early on that a bachelor at an event like this would stand out too much. Be too memorable. For tonight, they were playing the part of a married couple, owners of Glowmoon Incorporated, a new mining company in the Outer Rim. She couldn’t stop the small chuckle that slipped past her lips.

“What?”

“Sorry. I’m still hung up on the fact you decided to name our mining company Glowmoon. We might as well have called it Moonglow and been obvious. No one would know better anyway.”

The corners of Kanan’s eyes crinkled up.

“I figured we’d have some fun with it. Also, it’s easy for both of us to remember under pressure. Now come on.” The ramp was down and the balmy evening air surrounded them. “We’ve got a bomb to steal.”

* * *

 

The gala was more opulent and congested than Hera had anticipated. There were faces she recognized from the HoloNet, many faces she didn’t, and all she could think as she and Kanan made their way inside after presenting their invitations and making it through security was that any thief would have a field day here. Already she’d bumped into several women she could have easily lifted bracelets and necklaces from if she’d wanted to. They wouldn’t have noticed, they were so intent on socializing. It was a little sickening to see so much wealth like this, when there were people starving in the galaxy.

“So where is he?” Hera murmured. Though this was a gala in the Outer Rim, she was relieved to see quite a few nonhuman species here, and she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb like she’d half-expected to. Two Twi’lek women moved gracefully in the room serving as a ballroom, and nearby she saw a small cluster of Mon Calamari engaged in polite discourse with several humans and a Rodian. Across the room she even saw a strange blue-skinned man with short, dark hair dressed in a sharp black tuxedo. His hands were clasped gently at the small of his back and he stared at the art collection on display intently, oblivious to the rest of the patrons around him.

“According to my informant,” Kanan muttered, “Mitchell has a habit of arriving slightly late, so we might have to wait around for a little while. Mingle.”

“You say that like it’s a dirty word,” Hera said, amused. “As I recall, you once were the life of the party.”

Kanan’s lips twitched up. “Well, I doubt they’d appreciate the way I used to party. Even with all my skill, I doubt I can make a cantina brawl look posh.”

“Then how about we settle for a dance then, husband. That should pass the time, and it shouldn’t require all of that awful _mingling_.”

Kanan’s eyebrow raised, but a smile pulled across his face. “Well, if my lovely wife insists.”

They made their way to the ballroom and just as the music finished and transitioned into another song, he took her hand and they easily inserted themselves in among the various couples on the floor. Kanan’s hands were warm on her waist and in her hand, and his impossible blue met her green as they began to dance. This close, it was hard not to stare again. It was unsettling how the color actually felt like an obstacle between them, not the blindness like she’d expected.

“Something on my face, darling?”

His smirk and smooth drawl swept around her wandering mind with more decadence than the elegant quartet in the corner. Remembering herself, she returned the smirk and stepped closer.

“I was just thinking you really do clean up well, luv. Who knew what you looked like under all that dirt and grime. It’s a wonder I’m not fighting off any of the ladies.” Kanan swept her along easily and, for a blind man, Hera had to admit she was impressed. He was light on his feet and he led her well. They might have been floating.

“Please. I’m surprised I’m not fighting off all the men here. You might be overachieving as the lure. You don’t know how many people are staring at you right now.”

“And you do?”

His smirk widened.

“Darling, I can see everything.”

Hera wondered about that as she stepped out for a slow spin before stepping back up against him again. Color, beauty, space. Knowing him, he probably could.

“I’m surprised you didn’t decide to send Proxy in your place,” she mused after they swept past another couple.

“Would you have preferred a holodroid over real flesh and blood?” Kanan eased her against him as they sidestepped another couple. The music swirled around them, synchronizing their movements, and pressed this close, Hera had to admit she preferred flesh and blood in her dancing companion. Electric prickles swept lightly across her skin. She wondered if he felt them too, with all this teasing banter.

“No,” Hera admitted. “It just surprises me that you’d take on this part of the mission as well, when Proxy could do it and leave you free to pilfer to your heart’s content.”

“Proxy gets stuck sometimes,” Kanan replied. “And for all you know, maybe I like socializing with the upper class?”

Hera resisted the urge to snort at the comment. That would definitely be uncouth. Instead she said, “You know what? I don’t think I’d put it past you. You seem to change skins like most women change clothes. Eyes too.” The edge of a question sat there, the one that had been burning her alive since he’d pulled those blue eyes out again. Kanan grinned, leaning closer as if he were about to tell her a salacious secret.

“A man’s gotta keep some secrets for himself,” he whispered conspiratorially, and she wondered if the Force told him about the shiver that had run up her spine because of it. She rolled her eyes at him but found herself amused regardless. She hadn’t thought it would be that easy to pull the answer out of him.

Together they danced a few more songs, moving past the other couples in the room easily. It had been so long since she’d last danced — and with a good partner no less — that she couldn’t help but enjoy it. They never tripped. Never stumbled. There was no awkward hesitation or confusion, just grace and the shared knowledge of who they were and what they were here for to tie them together. Who said you can’t have some fun while you worked? It certainly seemed like Kanan was enjoying himself, if the small smile on the edge of his lips was anything to go by. She could tell it was real by the small crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

When the song ended they stepped away, and Hera snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. Kanan slipped his glass from her hand and they moved to stand by the wall, blending in with other couples taking breaks and groups in animated conversation. Kanan sipped his alcohol before leaning a little closer to her. Their shoulders pressed together, creating an intimate, semi-private space as they continued to wait for their target to make an appearance.

“You know, I’d have thought you’d be pestering me with your ‘friend’s’ offer of employment. Frankly, I’ve been waiting since Garel to hear about it.”

Hera smirked as she sipped her champagne.

“I’m surprised at you. You brought it up all on your own.”

The music changed to something more lively and fast-paced, and in response to the change they both stepped closer as more people stepped off the dance floor for a break. Kanan’s free hand slipped around her to rest on her waist again. He leaned his head down to mutter, “Don’t like to be blindsided.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”

There was real amusement in her voice, and the curl of her smile was just as real. It hadn’t been a barb but a tease, and Kanan seemed to know because he snorted softly.

“Hilarious, I’m sure.”

Hera shrugged and it made the lek resting there shift a little and brush against Kanan’s shoulder. It tingled.

“Honestly? I didn’t think you wanted to hear about it. But when we finish up here I’ll be more than happy to tell you everything you want to know.”

“You know, no matter what you say, the answer’s still going to be no.” Again Hera shrugged and finished her glass, placing it on a nearby table where other used glasses were quickly beginning to gather.

“Maybe, but what’s the harm in listening to what we have to offer?” Hera took his arm, and together they moved about the room, pretending to look at the various artworks on display as the gala around them eased on. “I only wanted to talk to you about it properly, and not in the middle of a fight. It’s your choice if you agree or not.”

Kanan dropped off his glass with a server before casting a sidelong glance at her. “Really? Based off how persistent you’ve been, I’d have guessed otherwise. After all, your team managed to tell my partner your offer. That should have been enough.”

Hera hummed as she observed a painting in a style native to this world. It was interesting and colorful, but it was a little too soft for her tastes. “Perhaps I just wanted to see you again?”

“Oh, I’m positive that’s the reason,” he said with a touch of disbelief. “After Gorse, I’m sure I made quite the impression.”

“Believe it or not, you did.”

The chuckle he gave her was quiet and amused, but filled with incredulity and he didn’t say anything else.

As they moved through the various rooms, pretending to appreciate the art with all the other patrons, they were still waiting for Mitchell to appear. A ‘little late’ clearly was turning out to mean very late, and Hera was a little concerned that this mission might not happen at all. Kanan’s fingers were starting to drum on her hip, clearly growing impatient himself. As the time continued to idle by, she noticed he was becoming more unresponsive, as if his attention was drifting. Searching.

He surfaced now and again to look with some interest at particular individuals and, bored, Hera called him out on it.

“You keep staring at the man in green,” Hera said as she shifted her weight to lean against Kanan. Her feet were beginning to ache. “Something about him you know?”

“The appeal of his rank,” Kanan replied coolly as he turned his back to the man in question, though Hera was sure his attention was still on him in the Force. Though the man in green was dressed like many of the other men here, his military bearing was showing through — as it was with others around the room. She should have known Kanan might window shop at a function like this.

“We aren’t here for a hit.”

“I didn’t bring the right evening attire for something like that anyway,” Kanan pointed out as he turned his false blue eyes to hers. “I was just looking.”

“Well, stop looking and play your part, Mr. Raloh. Look who’s finally joined the party.” She nodded discreetly toward the door and he turned his head in time to see Captain Reese Mitchell sweep into the room, all broad smiles and polished shine. Small clusters of people came up to greet him by name, and he basked in the attention. With the target finally in sight, it was time to begin the plan.

“Ready?”

Her sniffed. “For the past couple of hours, if you hadn’t noticed.”

It was several long moments before they approached him as they waited for the small flood of social hellos to dwindle down. Eventually Mitchell peeled off to admire a large metal sculpture, and she tightened her grip on Kanan’s arm. Show time.

“Left jacket pocket,” Kanan murmured as they approached. “It’s in there.”

Hera wondered how sharp that Force sight of his was that he could pick out something so specific. Kanan had told her he could see everything, and she was starting to wonder if he actually could. It was mindboggling what this Force user seemed capable of.

Slowly they stopped beside the sculpture Mitchell was regarding and Kanan turned his blue eyes toward it.

“It’s a wonderful piece, isn’t it?” Kanan said. “There’s something provocative about the work, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mitchell replied immediately, though the comment had been said to Hera and not him. He turned toward them and smiled, his eyes drawn instantly to Hera, and she knew Mitchell was snagged. Though she felt a little dirty for the attention he was giving her, her part in this was that of the lure. The distraction. So she did her job and gave him a beautiful smile, one he immediately mirrored. Mitchell gestured to the art. “I know the artist, actually. She says this work is her interpretation of the terror of beauty. A tribute to the sublime.”

Hera didn’t get the sublime from the sculpture and personally thought Sabine’s work deserved display much more than this. But she nodded in agreement and let her natural Rylothian accent slip out.

“Just looking at it makes me feel a bit of that terror, like gazing at a black hole. Beautiful, but frightening. Utterly sublime.”

“I’m Soryn Raloh, with Glowmoon Incorporated. A mining company here in the Outer Rim,” Kanan said as he extended his hand. Mitchell shook it though his attention still hadn’t left Hera. “This is my lovely wife.”

“Please, call me Ari.”

“It’s lovely to meet you Ari. Soryn. I’m Reese Mitchell, Captain in the Imperial Navy.”

“That sounds exciting,” Hera said, causing Mitchell to preen. “To be a man of stature in both society and the Imperial Navy must be quite an achievement.”

“It’s nothing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Just fulfilling my duty as a citizen of the Empire. Between you and me though, I’d much rather be attending art gala’s such as these. The Navy is a powerful place, but its artistic flares are lacking, to say the least.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hera lied. “There’s something to be said for the simplistic and industrial look the Empire favors. It is art too, in its own way.” Bland art. The art of conformity. Beside her she felt Kanan’s fingers twitch as if he was thinking the same thing.

Still, they smiled politely and pretended to listen as Mitchell took the opportunity to do what his type of man enjoyed doing most of all; talk about himself and everything he knew. Playing off of each other, both she and Kanan made Mitchell believe they were deeply engaged. Once she felt that the Imperial captain was sufficiently hooked, she gently nudged Kanan’s ankle.

He reacted immediately, his eyes raising, then widening as if he’d seen someone. Someone he needed to meet. He faced her, apologetic.

“I’m so sorry darling, but there’s someone I need to meet with right now,” Kanan proclaimed. Hera frowned at him.

“But luv, can’t it wait? We’re here for fun, not for business, and I really do want to see the rest of the artwork in this beautiful collection. You promised.”

Kanan made a show of being conflicted, and just as they hoped, Mitchell played his part perfectly.

“If you’d like, I’d be happy to escort you through the rest of these exhibits until your husband concludes his business.” His smile was meant to be suave. It struck her as oily. “Since I know many of the artist on display, I’m sure I could give an extra level of depth to a fellow connoisseur of the arts.”

Hera highly doubted that and was already sure this man was about to start talking out of his ass in an attempt to impress her, but she took his offered arm with a dazzling smile.

“Would you?” she asked, drawing closer as she kept hold of his eyes, even as her hand slipped into a pocket of his jacket and seized upon something card shaped. With expert skill she extracted it and hid it in her palm, before turning her eyes to Kanan. “At least someone appreciates the arts.”

“I do!” Kanan insisted. “I just have a bigger appreciation for our company and its assets. I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.” He leaned over to give her a quick kiss to the corner of her lips, and she grinned at him playfully, ignoring her surprise at the action. As it happened, she felt his fingers slide into her palm to take the access card from her.

“You had better, or someone might come along and pull me away. Decide that I’m more important than some business.” Hera winked at him coyly, the signal that she had a handle on the distraction while he went after their mission objective. In her opinion, he had the more difficult job. Although the Empire was the epitome of xenophobic, it didn’t stop many Imperials from appreciating the aesthetic beauty of a Twi’lek woman, even if under normal circumstances it was completely unacceptable. Mitchell certainly wasn’t an exception, and keeping his attention occupied wasn’t going to take any effort at all.

Hera amped up her charm as she pointed to another exhibit, one which Mitchell was already raving about, and no one was the wiser when Kanan vanished.

* * *

 

Roughly an hour later, Hera reached for a second flute of champagne as a server swept by. She’d positioned herself in front of a case of delicate bone carvings not far from where Mitchell now attempted to dazzle another couple with his ‘brilliance’. Hera sipped slowly, allowing the bubbly alcohol to linger on her tongue. Her feet ached and the toes of her shoes were pinching. The high collar of her dress was starting to become troublesome, and it was becoming difficult not to fidget with it, or risk exposing the bruise hidden there.

A warm hand covered hers and pulled the glass from her hand to take a sip from it himself, and with the drink covering his mouth, Kanan muttered, “Here you go.”

One of his hands slipped around her waist before discreetly slipping Mitchell’s access card into the palm of her hand. Once there, she let her palm curl around it naturally as she turned and smiled at Kanan. She took back her glass, finished it off because she’d damn well earned it, before setting it to the side.

“What was fast,” she commented as she let him guide her about the room, looking for all the world like a couple catching up on the gossip they’d both individually collected while away from each other. “I was half-expecting an alarm the entire time.”

“I’m too good for that,” Kanan replied pleasantly. “Security wasn’t as difficult as we thought it might be. I pretty much walked in, got what we wanted, and walked out.”

“Much better than Garel.”

“That goes without saying. I see that you’ve managed to charm half the room. Where’s Mitchell?” Hera had no idea how he knew it, but he wasn’t wrong. More than a few gazes lingered on her and she’d been approached at least seven different times. She wondered if he could feel it all in the Force, or if he was just guessing.

“Over there. Turns out there was someone he  _desperately_  needed to speak with as well. To keep an eye on him, I had to start mingling.” She said the word the same way he’d said it earlier, and his lips quirked up. “But don’t worry. Mitchell is so far up his own ass that he hasn’t noticed a thing. I thought you’d had the hard part, but listening to him? Keeping an eye on him? If we do something like this again, I’m doing the pilfering. You can be the shiny object.” Kanan chuckled.

“Well, I think it’s about time we excuse ourselves from the party. What do you think?”

“I’ve never heard sweeter words,” she told him brightly before allowing her accent to come through again as they approached Mitchell. Given the thick crowd, they had to cluster close together and practically rub elbows. Hera made a point to look very gracious as she addressed the Imperial captain.

“It was such a pleasure to meet you this evening. We hope to see you again at another function.”

“The next time you’re here in the Outer Rim, look us up.” Kanan told Mitchell warmly as he extended a hand.

Mitchell’s suave smile returned as he shook it and, distracted with the exchange, Hera smoothly slipped the access card back into his pocket. She maintained a pretty face as they began to turn away. Mitchell pretended to mourn their parting but not, she noticed, too keenly. He wouldn’t remember them at all in an hour. Perfect.

They slipped around the other patrons with ease, and before long the crowd thinned and Hera felt as if she could breathe properly again. After passing through the museum doors the balmy night air swelled around them, and they entered the lift which would take them back to where the  _Kasmiri_  was waiting.

The door closed silently, encompassing them in privacy. Kanan smirked. “Smooth as silk.”

“If long coming,” Hera replied as the lift moved slowly, allowing for lazy views of the lush planet around them as they climbed levels. She hardly saw them. The only thing she wanted to see was the  _Kasmiri’s_  cockpit. But with Kanan’s arm still wrapped around her, his demeanor warm and easygoing, it was easy to forget that this had just been a mission, and that he was a deadly assassin as much as she was a rebellion operative. She could almost pretend they really _were_ on a date somewhere, on one of those vacation planets she knew she’d never treat herself to. She smiled. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve waltzed my way through a mission. Pun intended.”

“I hope you at least got to have some fun. I can only imagine what you got up to while I was gone.”

“I was propositioned a few times, but alas I had to turn them down. I have my darling husband, after all.” Hera reached up and tugged on his beard teasingly. “They were so disappointed.”

“Were they now?”

“They were. Those poor little hearts might take ages to heal.”

Kanan’s chuckle was warm. “Heart breaker.”

“If I broke their hearts, then they couldn’t handle me anyway,” Hera said with a shrug, flicking her head a little to let the lek that had rested over her shoulder all night finally fall back to hang behind her with its twin. She noticed the way Kanan’s gaze followed it, traced it, and it sent a tiny thrill up her spine.

A group moved into the lift only to get off on the next level, but their presence forced the both of them to squeeze together at the back. Kanan’s arm wrapped around her again to keep her steady. Even when they once again had the lift to themselves, they didn’t move away, and when they looked at one another, their eyes caught. Or, at least, it felt like their eyes caught. At the very least she was certain she had his attention.

She knew he had hers.

“Sorry about that kiss earlier,” Kanan said in the intimate space between them as the light from outside the lift played games with the shadows sliding across the profile of his face. “I should have asked earlier how far you were willing to take the charade. Just thought Mitchell would buy the act if it looked genuine.”

Hera couldn’t help the quick look she gave his lips and the potential between them felt like magnetism, growing stronger the longer they played this game. She wondered how far this might still go. If they wanted to, they could pass this, whatever _this_ might be, off as a part of the ‘married’ act. They hadn’t left yet. They weren’t safe. Anything that might happen now could still be a part of the game.

It would be so much easier to believe, if the chemistry between them wasn’t real.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a proper kiss,” Hera pointed out, well aware of how close they were, and the fact that they were both closer than they probably should be. Neither made a move to correct it. “A lover’s peck, maybe. To be honest, it was so fast, I hardly noticed. There really wasn’t much to apologize for.”

Kanan’s face pinched. “Oh, that one hurt. You know just how to take a man’s ego down a peg or two, huh?” She smirked, and couldn’t help the next words that slipped out of her mouth.

“Now if you gave me a reason to warrant your apology …”  Hera’s words trailed off, an invitation if he wanted it. A teasing comment if he didn’t. Kanan looked at her thoughtfully, a funny, pensive look on his face before he gave her a crooked grin. Pleasant surprise shot like electricity through her body as she realized which option he was taking.

“In that case,” he said shifting closer, his breath warm against her lips as she watched him daringly. “Let me try again.”

Hera didn’t know what to expect from a kiss with Kanan, but it was a far cry from that peck earlier. She closed her eyes as his lips gently slid against hers, no hesitating and no rush. His beard tickled her cheek, and as she kissed back she couldn’t help but savor the surprisingly chaste nature of this kiss. There was potential to develop it into so much more, she knew they could both feel it like embers waiting to catch and blaze. But as the kiss grew longer and the world quieted around them, she also knew that as things were now, they wouldn’t take it further than this.

Pretending to be lovers all evening, having such easy intimacy and relying on their natural attraction had pulled something between them a little closer to the surface. But she sensed he knew it too. Trying for more would cause something to break. Maybe it would be the illusion they’d created this evening. Maybe it would be the lies they were telling each other. Themselves. But whatever it was, it was the thing that kept the balance between them. Anything more than this sweet, chaste kiss would further complicate an already complicated situation, even if they tried it call it off as a thing of the mission.

So Hera slowly pulled away, and Kanan let her. Her body was warm and sensitive in the wake of the kiss, her heart a solid beat in her chest, and the small smile he gave her was calm and knowing. His hands had drifted to her waist, and his gentle hold told her things she suspected he couldn’t.

“Well?” he asked with a roguish grin which helped the intimate moment pass, and she smirked at him before shifting her head from side to side as if in thought.

“Well, I suppose that one was better,” Hera declared, the feel of his beard lingering on her face like a phantom touch, a touch she found she rather enjoyed. His, crooked grin grew larger on his lips.

“Does it warrant an apology now?”

“No, I still don’t think so,” she said teasingly.

He hummed in response, his grin easing into an amused smirk, and an instant later the lift door opened. The  _Kasmiri_  sat waiting for them. “Let’s go. Proxy’s waiting for our check-in and I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to get out of this monkey suit.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a smile as she took his arm so he could help bear some of her weight as the ache in her feet made the small trip to the ship look long. “It looks good on you.”

Kanan’s lips twitched with amusement, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Soon they’d boarded and Hera made a beeline straight for the pilot’s seat. She sighed in relief as she sat, happy to be in her rightful place, and within moments they were ascending through the atmosphere.

“Was the mission a success?” Proxy asked once Kanan established contact. The holoprojection of the droid was watchful, and from within Kanan’s evening jacket he withdrew a small silver ball.

“I’d say it was accomplished,” Kanan replied from the copilot’s seat as he gave it a little toss before tucking it away again.

“Let’s _not_ toss the prototype grenade around?” Hera commented, but when faced with Kanan’s devil-may-care grin after a surprisingly pleasant evening, she found it difficult to chide him correctly. The edges of a smile just wouldn’t leave her lips. Kanan addressed his droid again.

“We should be back soon Proxy. Everything all right on your end?”

“Yes, Kanan. It’s been quiet here, but ….”

Both Hera and Kanan stared at the droid probingly at his trailing comment, their shared good humor simultaneously taking a nose-dive. After looking at both of them Proxy shook his head.

“It can wait until you return,” the holodroid promised. “Have a safe trip back.”

Kanan cut the transmission and Hera lifted a brow.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “He’s like that sometimes. It’s probably nothing.”

Once they’d safely made it to the comfort of lightspeed, practically home-free, Hera set the autopilot and finally shucked off her heels. She couldn’t wait to get back into the comfort and dependability of her flight suit. Beside her, Kanan was similarly divesting himself of his suit jacket, loosening the tie at his neck, and Hera couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the movements. It was a shame that he was taking it off. He really did look good dressed up.

But there was something to be said about the half-dressed state he was in now too.

Hera pulled her eyes away. The mission was over now and all these teasing remarks, tantalizing looks, they should stop. Would probably stop. Now that the gala was behind them, she was Hera Syndulla again, Captain of the  _Ghost_ crew, and he was Kanan Jarrus, the infamous Reaper. They’d had something, and right now it was over. Letting the attraction pull her further into whatever was between them now wasn’t smart, especially since she still wasn’t sure about him.

But tonight … well, it had been fun and natural. Even though they’d been playing a game with everyone around them, between them it hadn’t felt like a game. It hadn’t felt like an act. Together they’d held a secret from everyone else, but it hadn’t felt like they’d been holding many secrets from each other.

And the kiss at the end hadn’t been bad either.

“What are you smirking about?” Kanan asked, lifting an eyebrow and she found herself wishing that she was looking at milk-white eyes and scarred skin instead. She’d noticed over the evening that the blue ones, oddly enough, weren’t nearly as expressive. Hera’s smirk widened as she sidestepped the truth.

“Just glad to get out of these heels. They are absolute murder on the feet.”

Kanan chuckled. “I’ve always thought they look like improvised murder weapons. I do what I can not to piss off a woman in heels as high as yours.”

“Is that why you were so good to me tonight?” she teased. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for future negotiations with you.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “So long as you’re able to catch me in them, that is.”

Hera’s snicker was so undignified and sudden that they both started giggling, then full on laughing at the outrageous scenario running through their minds. As Hera’s laugh pealed out of her, she couldn’t remember when she’d last heard it and believed the mirth that rang in its tone was honest and real, like it was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The gala chapter. I hope you all liked it and I'd love to know what you thought of it. The wonderful [nugbug](https://thenugbug.tumblr.com/) made some beautiful [gala Kanera artwork](https://thenugbug.tumblr.com/post/157971956454/made-some-art-for-a-fan-fic-called-blackbird-by) that I really recommend taking a look at. It's so lovely.
> 
> Also you catch the cameo? If you did, good job! I offer you a cyber high-five. If not, I’m sure you can find him and I give you a high-five anyway. Before I get anyone’s hopes up though, I’ll tell you now that he is only a cameo in this story, and will not actually be taking any relevant part. The urge to include him here was just a little too much for me. He’s great, and there may or may not be secret story plans brewing with him in it. But not here in Blackbird.
> 
> Finally, this chapter was originally a 12k monster in editing, which means I split it in two again (for both mood and my sanity of mind). So, that's right. The Kanera's not over. Check in over the next couple of days. Another chapter is coming and we'll be in Kanan's head next.


	13. News

“Welcome back,” Proxy greeted as they stepped off the  _Kasmiri’s_  ramp and back into the chilly Lothal air. Night’s darkness clung to the sky, shadowing the hidden base, and only Proxy’s energy lines and an offered light for Hera illuminated the area. “Your trip back was uneventful?”

“Smooth as silk,” Hera told the droid, echoing Kanan’s own words earlier as if they’d always been hers. She shot him a small, sidelong smirk, one he couldn’t help but return. He was still riding the pleasant wave lingering from this evening. They both were. He could feel it radiating off the Twi’lek woman, her pleased mood shining in the Force like fairy lights to his senses. It was difficult for him not to be drawn in. Enchanted. As they walked inside, Kanan worried that his mood might change the moment he crossed his base’s threshold, like a magic spell finally shattering, but it didn’t. It remained the same. He and Hera were still cocooned in a shared bubble of warmth, and their shoulders brushed now and then with every odd step when they didn’t have to.

His heart was strangely light, and again he was surprised that the usual self-flagellating part of him wasn’t doing its best to tear it down. He could feel it, on the edges of his consciousness as if waiting for an opening to spring, but right now that’s where it was. On the edge. Far away, while Hera moved warm and solid next to him.

Kanan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Gorse maybe, on a much smaller scale, but nothing like now.

It was this thought which tempered his mood and needled him a little closer to reality. The good things, he knew, they didn’t last. It might be good now, but life was around the corner and when would it take another swing at him? It always did. It always would. He had a shelf in his room dedicated to reminding him of just that fact, and he should know better by now. He shouldn’t let himself be drawn in like this.

The feel of Hera’s warm shoulder brushed his again and pulled his mind out of the dark corner it was about to fall into. He took a breath and scented the mature, floral perfume that still clung to her skin, and he focused on that instead. They’d had a good evening. A good mission. Maybe he’d been a little weak earlier, with the kiss, but right now he didn’t want to care. Experience told him this would all fade away at some point, but right now he found himself selfishly clinging to it.

He didn’t have to be the Reaper yet. He could just be Kanan Jarrus, back from a date-mission with the lovely Hera Syndulla. He could pretend for a little while longer. Lie to himself. Right now, for once, he couldn’t help but crave the lie. He hadn’t done anything like this since Gorse. What was one night?

The expanse of the main atrium welcomed them back and they both followed Proxy toward a semi-empty table. Hera sat at it gratefully as she began removing her jewelry and wiping away the heavy makeup that had made her lekku indistinguishable. Kanan slid a hand into the pocket of his evening jacket and closed it around the bomb just as he remembered Proxy had something to tell them.

“What did you want to tell us earlier,” Kanan asked as he tossed his jacket on the table after gently setting the prototype down, aware of Hera’s watchful eyes. He grinned at her.

“Uh, yes. About that, Kanan,” the droid said as he neared the console. “Earlier I happened upon several reports. Imperial reports.”

“There are always Imperial reports,” Kanan pointed out. “What’s special about these?”

“Well, these concern a small group of rebels who liberated suspected rebellion sympathizers,” Proxy replied with a strangely nervous tone. That made Kanan’s brow furrow, and he lifted his face to the droid. Turned away from Hera like this, he deactivated and plucked the tiny holoprojectors out of his hair where he’d discreetly attached them earlier. Immediately he felt the projection fade, and the static that always clung to his upper face when he used them vanished. He rubbed fingers over the spots the tiny projectors had been hidden. They always itched when he used them.

“All right,” Kanan said. “What does that mean for us?”

“The reports indicate that the group who conducted the infiltration and rescue consisted of three operatives, a droid, and … and a white nexu.”

Kanan stilled, feeling as if a void had opened right beneath his feet, and across the table Hera’s head shot up. Her eyes were wide as realization slammed into her with the same force it was slamming into him.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m afraid I’m not, Hera,” Proxy replied apologetically though his photoreceptors were aimed at Kanan. “This is the footage I managed to find concerning the event.” Proxy pressed a button, and a holoprojection, clearly an Imperial security recording, began to play out. It was grainy and a little difficult to make out, but they watched as a small Imperial base was attacked by a raging young nexu and a familiar shadow. Two other figures and a squat droid helped pave the way for a thin line of ragged looking people, and those with blasters were firing madly at something off-screen.

Rooted in place, Kanan’s focus was locked on the grainy footage like torture. He didn’t want to see — tried not to see — the figure that could not _possibly_ be Ezra. It had to be someone else, but he knew the outline of Ezra’s form and Rosie’s shape anywhere. There was no doubt the shadow was his apprentice.

Kanan pressed the fingers of one hand through his hair, dislodging the tie holding the mass back before dropping his hand to his side again when he was sure he had control of his emotions. This was awful, unbelievable, but … all things considered it was just stormtroopers. Ezra hadn’t whipped out his lightsaber, even if Rosie was almost as bad. It was just the Rider doing something foolish. That was all.

A burst of spinning light flickered onto the footage as the off-screen figure came into view, and he watched in horror as Ezra activated his own lightsaber and engaged an Inquisitor. The tiny holoprojector between Kanan’s fingers collapsed under the pressure of his sudden, churning emotions, and gave up the ghost with a small electric sizzle. Beside him Hera went rigid with shock and shot Kanan a quick look, but he’d already turned angrily away the moment the footage was over. Proxy turned it off, and Kanan struggled to breathe as every worst-case scenario he’d ever dreamed up in the dead of night rose to the front of his mind. The air began to heat in reaction, and it was all he could do to keep any semblance of calm.

Kanan gritted his teeth. “Proxy.”

“They made it away,” Proxy informed him quickly. “Rider has already sent a message informing us that both he and Hera’s crew are all safe, and that they lost the Inquisitor. But there are already Imperial warrants out for the arrest and capture of the Rider, who is now thought to be a Jedi in league with the rebellion.” The droid shifted nervously. “There’s nothing that can stop this, Kanan.”

“Kanan,” Hera said slowly as if he were some animal she had to treat with extreme caution. Her words dried up to nothing as Kanan abruptly lifted a palm. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, for silence or for violence. Fire raged in his blood, and above he could feel the scythe react. It oozed heat of its own, enticing him in the Force to take it in hand. Everything would be better, if he did. The rage would even out, his mind would still. There would be peace.

But he didn’t use the Force to call it flying into the palm of his hand because if he did, he didn’t know what might happen next. He might find peace of a sort, but the way he was feeling now … it was risky. Too risky, with Hera here.

Agonizingly the seconds passed, but even as the rage roiled within him, nothing happened. The urge to reach out in the Force, to do something, _anything_ as if that might erase this mess from existence, was staggering. But the moment grew longer, and with every exhale he found it a little easier to remain motionless. To do nothing.

The air began to cool and Hera took a slow breath. She continued slowly, as if her life depended on it, and Kanan wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the case.

“Kanan, I don’t know anything about this.”

Bright, earnest honesty raced through the Force from her to him, and though a part of Kanan hated it, wanted to ignore it, wanted to call it all an elaborate lie so that he could dig into her ruthlessly and tear her apart … the truth was irrefutable. She hadn’t known. There was nothing but honest shock pulsing from her, the same aura of confusion edged with angry disbelief which lingered around his own aura.

Kanan pressed his fingertips into his brow and clenched his blind eyes shut. With each breath he took, he held the air until his lungs ached before slowly letting the air out, repeating the process over and over. Kanan ran a hand through his hair again, and the motion was soothing as it always was. The temptation of the scythe above began to reluctantly fade.

Anger rose in him again, sudden like a geyser, and now all he could thing about was his foolish apprentice. What had Ezra been _thinking_? He’d taught Ezra better than this, and the moment he’s out there on his own, Ezra decides it’s a good idea to fight an Inquisitor  _alone_? The thought sent a pike of terror to the heart of his being again. Why? Why would Ezra do something so _stupid_?

The urge to destroy something came back, but the closest things were Hera and Proxy. Though lashing out simply to blow off some pressure would have felt wonderful right now, she didn’t deserve it. Proxy didn’t deserve it. But the Reaper in him wanted to. Burned to. Ezra might have died, and for all he knew it could have happened while he was out with Hera on a mission, enjoying himself. The very possibility that something might have happened to Ezra while he was with her made him want to blame her. Hurt her.

But this wasn’t her fault, and he’d given his word he wouldn’t let anything happen to her again while she was here.  _This wasn’t her fault._ He had to work past his shock and his anger and keep control. He _had_ to keep control.

Under the collar of her dress, he could still feel the bruise around her neck.

“Kanan,” Hera said slowly again when he still hadn’t responded. “Kanan, I’m telling the truth.”

“I know, Hera,” he said tightly, slowly calming down again. Hera relaxed, but not by much.

“I mean it, Kanan. I didn’t put them up to this. I have no idea what they were thinking.”

“I know,” Kanan grunted, unable to look at her. “I can feel it in your Force aura.”

Hera took a deep breath before she pressed her fingers into to her brow, below the base of her lekku.

“Of course you’ve got a built-in lie-detector,” she said. Her voice was exasperated and tired, and somehow that helped cool the hot burn of rage better than anything else had thus far, because it matched how he felt deep at his core. It didn’t help a whole lot, but he was impressed that it helped at all. Hera turned to Proxy. “You said they sent word they’re all okay?”

“Yes.” Proxy gave her a datapad with the message, one Kanan scanned in the Force from where he was. “They’re still able to make the rendezvous in a few days.”

“Good,” she said with hard eyes. “They’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Kanan agreed as he tossed the useless holoprojector bud onto the table, along with its working partner. He wouldn’t be able to use them again since they only worked as a pair. He doubted he’d be able to fix the broken one, not anytime soon, which was just more icing on the cake Proxy had dropped on them. Hera stared at the small devices with her sharp eyes, and he supposed that the mystery of his changing eye color wasn’t a secret to her now either.

Though more manageable, the anger still clung within him like tar. The urge to pull down the scythe nagged at him relentlessly, but he clenched his hands into fists instead. Memories of what happened only a few days ago flashed in his mind like a warning, and he would not risk it. While Hera was here, it stayed up there. No exception.

He’d have to calm down the old way, and hope it was enough.

“Is there anything else, Proxy?”

“No, Kanan,” the droid replied. “That was the only thing of note.”

“Then I’ll be in my room. Meditating.”

Neither Proxy nor Hera said a thing as he left.

The lovely evening they’d spent together was over. In the wake of everything he’d just found out, it might have happened in a different life. To a different him.

A him, he remembered, he wasn’t.

* * *

 

Hours later, Kanan was calm again and soaking in the springs, thinking about everything that had happened. Good and bad. It was easier to do now that he could think, but he was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the sound of the door opening. Soft footsteps paused a few steps in.

“Oh, sorry,” Hera said in surprise, clad in her robe. “I didn’t think you’d be in here.  I’ll come back later.” She turned to leave.

He should let her go, leave her alone. Instead his voice slipped into the quiet air.

“There are three springs, Hera,” Kanan said as he gestured to the other spring next to his, on the other side of the dividing rocks he was leaning against. “You can stay in yours and I’ll stay in mine. No point in either of us leaving, unless I make you uncomfortable. I’ll leave if that’s the case.”

“Hardly,” Hera replied, turning around though she made no move to advance. He could feel her caution flowing from her. He didn’t blame her. Rational again, he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to be anywhere near him for the rest of the time they had to spend together. He could hardly stand to be around himself. Still, she didn’t leave. “I thought you were still meditating. I don’t want to disturb you.”

Kanan turned his gaze away from her. “You’re not disturbing me.” He gestured to the spring behind him. “Go on. I won’t look.”

“So says the blind man,” Hera retorted as she started to drift closer. “But you see more than I suspect most people see.”

Kanan shrugged.

“When you’ve depended on the Force for vision and survival for as long as I have, senses sharpen,” he agreed quietly, and though he could feel her caution turn to curiosity, probably begging to know for just how long, she didn’t ask. “But I can narrow the scope of my sight to what my eyes might see, if they still worked. I just won’t look at you.”

Silence met his words, then she put her hand on her hip.

“Well? Look away then. No peeking.”

“I’m the Reaper, Hera. Not some peeping teenager.” But he did narrow his sight’s range, and he did look away. Though he couldn’t see her now that she was in his self-made blind spot, Kanan could still feel her emotions. There was doubt in her aura but there was also a lining of trust there he did not feel he deserved. Eventually he heard the soft sound of fabric shifting and sliding off skin. Kanan closed his eyes and envisioned a void. Blackness. Nothingness. Not the kiss from earlier. Not Hera.

Eventually he heard the water in her pool settle, and he opened his eyes, adjusting his sight again but limited his scope to everything but the space Hera’s body resided. When he told her that he could see everything — at least within the room — he’d meant it. Water distorted his sight some, made it wobble, but was easy enough to see through if he wanted. But like he’d told her, he was no peeping teenager. He’d respect her privacy and her dignity. He only wanted to make out her face and the rest of the room.

Silence filled the springs as they both soaked in their respective pools. Though he couldn’t quite relax like he had before she’d arrived, he found the shared silence … comfortable. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything. It was just a companionable silence, nothing more.

But that potential for more, it was there. It was always there when she was around, it seemed. There were many things he could say. Should say. He should tell her that he would take her to the Lothal space port at any point she wanted to leave. He should tell her to leave anyway, because couldn’t she sense how dangerous he was? Hadn’t she noticed the danger she and Proxy had been in earlier, when he’d been on the brink of losing control?

This kept happening, these bursts of anger, and he wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t only because of her, or Ezra’s recent behavior — though both were clear contributors. Slips like earlier, they’d been happening more often over the last year. Usually Ezra went a long way toward keeping him level. For years Kanan had had a solid handle on his darker emotions, controlled them, but sometimes now ….

That didn’t matter. Hera should leave, and soon, because staying here for her mission to recruit him was dangerous. She needed to give up. She needed to stop. She needed to leave, for her own safety. He needed to tell her to leave.

Instead, it was a question that finally arose out of the silence.

“Why did you decide to come to Lothal?” Kanan asked, breaking the steam-filled quiet between them. “I’d left a trail that should have taken you to Nar Shaddaa, and instead you came here to Lothal. Why?”

Hera chuckled, and it was simple and warm and beautiful like the full-bodied sound of bells. He hated how much he loved the sound. He didn’t deserve to hear it. 

“Well, I’ll admit that Proxy almost fooled us,” she replied. “But someone else suggested I look here instead.”

Kanan’s lips pressed thin as pieces fell into place, and he knew who Hera was talking about. There was only one person on Takodana who would be bold enough to put her nose in his business. In retrospect, he realized he should have known better.

“Maz,” Kanan said. “She was the one who told you where to look.”

“To be fair, she only mentioned the Lothal Sector.” Hera tilted her head, and her lekku slid slick on her shoulders. He was glad she couldn’t see his face. That she didn’t know just how much that tiny movement always threatened to derail his mind. “How did you know I came to Lothal and not Nar Shaddaa?”

Kanan turned his head to show her his eyes over his shoulder, and he gave her the ghost of a grin he hardly felt.

“Do you happen to remember a certain beggar in the streets? One you were kind enough to give a few spare credits to?”

The water on Hera’s side splashed a she jerked to face him, accusation in her eyes. “You rat.”

And just like that, Hera managed to break a hole right through his guilt and shame, and he couldn’t stop his grin from growing a little wider, shameless.

“It was so kind of you, Hera, helping a blind old beggar like me. You are truly an angel.”

“You knew we were in the area the whole time!”

“It was really just luck that you passed by that day,” he replied with a chuckle. “I was about to leave when you and your crew strolled by.”

“I want my credits back,” Hera grumbled, shifting to face him directly. “With interest.”

As Hera settled in this new position against her side of the spring, crossing her arms in front of her chest to rest on the ledge, the discoloration around her neck in a clear hand print came into view. Kanan frowned, and that hole she’d punched through rebuilt itself. His amusement flagged to nothing, and he stretched a wet hand across the gap between them, but he didn’t touch her. Only gestured to the bruise.

“I am sorry about that, Hera.”

She eyed him before shaking her head. Kanan withdrew his hand.

“Let it go, Kanan. You’ve already promised me it won’t happen again.” Hera lifted a brow curiously. “Are you going to tell me what that thing was, now?”

“Nope,” he replied with a sigh as he settled himself back against his side of the wall again, tilting his head and his gaze up at the rocky ceiling above. The steam warped his Force sense worse than the water did, and made it difficult to see correctly sometimes. He craved it now, since he didn’t want to let his focus sit on Hera. He studied the shifting haze. “Besides, in a few days you’ll go your way, and Rider will come back, and that’ll be that. That’s nothing you ever need to be concerned about again.”

The drip of moisture was the only sound that filled the springs for a time. Then Hera shifted, and the water gently lapped about her, loud in his ears. “You still haven’t given me an answer about joining the rebellion.”

Kanan snorted as he sunk a little lower into the pool. “Come on, Hera. We both know what I am. The rebellion doesn’t need someone like me.”

Though he was now deliberately looking away from her, he could feel her eyes on him as she looked over his shoulder, weighing his words. Then she hummed, and he had no idea what that meant, but he knew the sound of someone standing from the water. Kanan immediately narrowed his Force sight as far away from her as he could, but couldn’t stop his sensitive ears from paying attention as he heard a towel sliding over skin, a robe covering a body. He focused his mind to keep it from wandering, and again envisioned nothingness.

Since he knew she wouldn’t leave even if he told her to, it was a relief at least that she would only be here for a few more days. Then she’d be gone. This was all just a blip in his usual routine. Ezra would come back — he would run the boy through training routine’s Kanan wasn’t completely sure he’d survive — they’d move their base and lay low until it was safe again to do his typical missions, even if leaving Lothal would be problematic for all of them. It wouldn’t matter though, not when their survival might depend on it. They’d settle somewhere else, wait for the storm to pass, and everything would go back to the way things were. Hera would be out of his life again, along with her offer.

Their mission together had just been one evening in many. A good evening — one they’d toed a line with, true — but it would fade into nothing, like everything else did. These longings, desires, whatever they were … they would fade too. They did the first time, on Gorse, and they would now, no matter how much stronger they seemed.

His heart pulsed and dared him to truly believe it.

Slowly he turned his sight on her and found her dressed, but lingering. Looking at him thoughtfully. He turned tired, blind eyes to hers and lifted an eyebrow. Hera gave him one of those small smiles he found so difficult to read.

“You might be right,” she said in that beautiful alto of hers, and though Kanan’s heart clenched at the verdict, it was a bittersweet feeling. He’d known he was right, and for her sake and her safety, he was happy that she saw that he wasn’t a fit for the rebellion. They may fight the Empire, but their ways were too different.

Yet the part of him that had once been light and good and young, ached. This incredible woman _agreed_ with him. He wasn’t good for the rebellion. Just like he knew.

“I know I’m right,” Kanan sighed, accepting the truth along with the bittersweet ache.

“The rebellion doesn’t need the Reaper,” Hera carried on, headless. “But I think it might definitely need Kanan Jarrus.”

Kanan’s words vanished, just as the clamp around his heart disappeared, and he felt like he was falling. Not the Reaper, but Kanan Jarrus.

Not the Reaper, but Kanan Jarrus.

Lost for words, Kanan gave her a smile he did not feel and turned both his eyes and his gaze away from her again.

“Good night, Hera.”

“Good night, Kanan.”

Kanan listened to her footsteps as she left him alone in the baths without another word, and in the Force he stretched his hearing to listen as she entered her room before he relaxed his focus. Alone again he took a deep, steam filled breath and sank all the way under the water. It made the sensitive skin around his old scar burn fiercely, but he embraced it like a punishment. Endured the heat until his lungs burned for air, and then surfaced again.

It didn’t make her words leave his mind.

That woman was doing something to him, and it wasn’t good. Not for him. Not for Ezra. Not for his work. He needed to leave her be. Let her go. Forget all … this.

And yet, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Couldn’t stop hearing her words echo in his head. Not the Reaper, but Kanan Jarrus. She spoke with that simple confidence, as if there was some clear distinction between who he was and who the Reaper was, but there wasn’t. He was both. He was whatever he needed to be.

But he couldn’t stop an insidious thought from rising, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. What if there _was_ a clear distinction? And if there was, who was he more? Kanan Jarrus or the Reaper? A more terrifying question floated to the surface of his mind.

Who did he want to be, if there was a difference?

Mindlessly he stepped out of the spring and dried himself before heading for the sanctuary of his own room. As he entered, he pulled his attention away from where it had been drawn once again toward the tempting, confusing, dangerous Twi’lek a few rooms down. Kanan sighed heavily, then closed his door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the second part. I hope you liked it! And that’s how he’s been changing his eye color, through tiny holoprojectors. These I made up, but they’re based off of Proxy’s technology so I thought it could work. More on that in future chapters. Anyway, let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Poor confused Kanan. Hopefully he’ll be able to pull himself back together, especially since he’ll have to deal with Ezra and his shenanigans soon. But before we see how that’s going to pan out, it’s been a while. I think it’s time we get back to Caleb, Rika, and Kasmir. Don’t you?


	14. Origins - Janus Kasmir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back on Kaller with Caleb and Rika, not long after Chapter 7.

One morning, Caleb and Rika decided they would both go to the market for the day, and Caleb was excited. It was an ideal place to practice his field detection and having Rika nearby meant that when he asked his questions later, she would know exactly what he was talking about. Rika had told him it would be possible, with extensive training, that his Force sense might become so sensitive he’d be able to determine the differences between energy field types. If he was really good, he’d be able to sense where they were, where they were coming from, where their weak points were, and how to avoid them. Combining field detection with farsight would help him in the future to see traps and wards, what they might do to him should he cross them, and perhaps how to disarm them. The usefulness of these skills made him eager for the outing.

Plus, Rika had some shopping she needed to do for dinner. She was planning on making a soup very similar to one they might have had if they’d traveled to her homeworld of Alpheridies, and Caleb was already looking forward to it.

The hours passed easy as they always did these days, and when they met up again just after twilight, Caleb couldn’t wait to tell Rika what he learned. Earlier while he was practicing, he thought that maybe he’d felt a field. It had happened as he’d slipped past a couple of clones. He’d tried to do what Rika taught him, keep his senses open and feel any of the various fields which usually surrounded them. As he’d focused, he was sure — well, pretty sure anyway — that he’d felt something … electric. Like the faintest prickle of static, kinda like what Rika told him electric devises felt like to her. Since then, he’d been itching to find the old Miraluka and verify.

“How was your day, child?” Rika asked in her kind, weathered old voice as she touched his shoulder in greeting. Caleb grinned at her, even as he bore through the endearment. He’d tried to break her habit of calling him ‘child’, but every time he protested she always smiled and kept using it anyway. Truth was, coming from her he didn’t really mind, though he’d never say it out loud. Rika was probably the only person he’d ever let get away with it.

“Good,” Caleb replied. “I was practicing today. I think I felt something, and I have some questions I want to ask you.”

“When don’t you?” Rika asked with a chuckle as they made their way down the crowded street. Today Caleb was playing not-blind. He wore goggles on to cover his eyes and thick scar, and a deep hood to keep away too many prying eyes. He did this sometimes, at Rika’s suggestion. He only pretended to see like this in areas where he was sure no one knew him, or knew that Rika had a blind boy living with her. Playing not-blind meant they could travel more quickly. It also meant that no one was going to notice a grandson escorting his elderly and blind grandmother, the lie they told anyone who asked. They often stood out a lot more when it was clear they were both blind. Gently, he took her arm to help her home. “We can talk about it over dinner.”

Content with the answer — and the idea of dinner, he was starving! — he led her away, but paused curiously when she drew to an abrupt stop. In the Force he felt her Force aura ripple, a tiny little disruption, but coming from her it was like a strong nudge to his shoulder. Rika was always so controlled, and it was always a challenge to sense anything about her in the Force beyond what she wanted him to sense. This sudden blip wasn’t normal.

“What is it, Rika?”

“Oh, dear, I’ve forgotten something,” she replied with an embarrassed smile as she patted his hand. Her Force aura was once again smooth and unreadable. “Would you mind going back to pick up some mushrooms for me? I haven’t been able to forage any lately, and I just remembered we need them for dinner tonight. It just wouldn’t be the same without them.”

Caleb frowned, uneasy, but knew better to press her about her small brake in Force stealth in an open place like this.

“Yeah, sure.” He let her arm go so that he could head back toward the market, intent on making the trip fast. “I’ll be right back.”

Just as he was about to step off, mind already traveling the streets around them as he tried to figure out where the closest mushroom vendor was in this area, Rika surprised him. Before he could leave, she caught his shoulders and gently drew him close and cupped his cheek. Her hand was warm and papery with age, and gentler than any touch he’d known in his life.

“Be safe, Caleb.” Rika said. “You know how it is out here after dark.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed at her at the strange, unexpected action.

“Rika?”

“Go now, and be quick,” she told him with a smile as she gently radiated care and compassion in the Force. It settled him, a little, and reluctantly he sighed and smiled back at her. After the Jedi Purge, he was sometimes jumpy with the worry that something might happen to one or the both of them. This was probably nothing to worry about. Rika had farsight visions, after all. She’d be the first to know if something bad was going to happen. He was sure.

Caleb took that weathered old hand and squeezed it. “I will, Rika. Just wait right here. I won’t be long.” She didn’t say anything, just smiled in amusement when his stomach rumbled loudly and made him blush. With the prospect of food to come, he left to complete his errand.

The trip to the market was short, but with every step he took the reassurances he’d told himself felt thinner and thinner, weakening in the back of his mind while something else grew in the pit of his stomach and within his heart. That tremor in her aura … he couldn’t let it go. Maybe it was just the forgetfulness of old age, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t. Rika wasn’t forgetful like that, but what else could it be?

He didn’t know, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Moving fast, Caleb cast his senses out to check the Force, all while he found and haggled for mushrooms. Caleb knew he’d paid too much given his distraction, but he didn’t care. He was actively worried now and he raced through the streets to find Rika. There was something in the Force, a disturbance of some kind, and it was growing. He probed it, urged the Force to give him some clue about what was going on, but all he felt was an intense need to get back. Now.

Clinging to the Code, he repeated all of it in his head over and over to fight back his growing anxiety. He was still a Jedi, even if the Jedi were all but gone now. His emotions were his, they did not control him. He was their master.

And yet, he was afraid.

All Caleb wanted right now was to get back to Rika. He didn’t know why the Force was stirring; right now he didn’t care. He just needed to find Rika and make sure she was safe. Once he saw that everything was all right, things would be fine. They’d go home, she’d make an incredible meal, he’d unload every single question he’d come up with throughout the day, and they’d be fine. Everything would be fine.

He just needed to find her and prove it to himself.

As he rounded the next corner, he froze, and what he saw down the alley caused his heart to plummet. Forgotten, the mushrooms dropped from his hand when he saw Rika sprawled on the ground, bloody and broken with blasters aimed at her old body. Clones stood over her, towering and righteous and, for the moment, oblivious of him.

He could feel their intent to kill all the way from where he stood at the other end of the alley like a dumb, stupid statue. With a disconnected thought, he realized that what he felt was very similar to how he’d felt six months ago, on the night of Order 66. Trapped as his world locked around him and crumbled, forcing him to watch it end again.

“Rika?”

Her name slipped from his lips, hollow as shock rolled through him. She and the clones looked up. Rika’s blindfold had been ripped off to reveal her vestigial eye sockets, clear indicators of her Miraluka heritage, and they bore urgently at Caleb as she lifted a trembling hand. In the span of that single moment, her presence in the Force flared bright as she abandoned her Force stealth and focused.

“Caleb, run!”

Rika Force pushed him away brutally, and harder than he’d ever thought she was capable of. He fell like a sack of rocks, his hood falling back to reveal his goggled face. He looked up in fear and desperation. It was happening again. History was repeating itself, only this time it wasn’t only Rika’s aged voice that told him to run. He could hear the clear echo of Master Billaba’s coupling with it, dragged up from the back of his memory like a ghost.

Run.

“Caleb?”

The former Padawan felt his heart clench as the Force auras of the clones grew more distinct. They blazed, familiar and deadly, and he knew without a doubt that it was Commander Grey and Captain Styles facing him. Them. Somehow, of all the clones still stationed here on Kaller, they’d found Rika, and they were about to kill her for being a Force-sensitive. It was common knowledge now that anyone capable of using the Force, even a little, was either taken in by the new Empire or killed immediately if they did not comply.

Rika would never comply. And he knew his former clones would kill her, as they had their hero and his master.

Throughout all of this, a childish thought slipped past the discipline of his mind. This couldn’t be happening, not again. Not to Rika.

But it was, and somehow he found himself back on his feet. Only one thing was on his mind now. Stop them. He had to stop them. He had to save her, somehow, but he had no weapons. He was a street urchin here on Kaller, and his saber would have given him away, even if he had had it on him — which he did not. But he had to do something. He had to save her.

Yet, even as he urged his limbs to move, he could feel in the Force what was about to happen. From across the distance, he felt his connection to Rika as if she were right beside him. He could feel her, her decision and her determination. They pounded into him like a durasteel wall, unrelenting and protective.

Just as the clones shifted their attention to the deadlier target, Rika’s old, gnarled voice thundered through the air.

“Run!”

Not an instant later, it was cut short by the relentless sound of blaster fire.

Through their connection, Caleb felt every volley as they struck the old Miraluka, rendering her body limp and useless. Under the siege, Caleb stood mortified and sick as he felt Rika of the Luka Sene die. Her energy left her body, ephemeral like vapors.

As Caleb continued to stand there, petrified, the gentlest wisp of a touch caressed the crown of his head. It was a familiar touch, one Rika always gave him when he left the hut. A caress farewell.

The faint sensation faded away, and Caleb knew she was gone.

He heard the clones as they paused only to confirm the kill of a Force user before they turned to him again, but by then he was already gone. Caleb hadn’t realized he’d even moved, but when his brain caught up he found he’d somehow made it onto a roof and was moving fast to grow distance between himself and the clones. Though he and the clones may have been on Kaller the same length of time, Caleb was confident they didn’t know the streets like he did. He could outrun them. He had to outrun them.

But what after that?

Within minutes he was streets away, slipping through the shadows like a wraith in the dark until he found himself on a roof with a great cage filled with some of Kaller’s exotic birds. Unable to stop himself, he collapsed next to it. The birds squawked and screeched as the weight of his body jostled their home. Caleb ignored them as he struggled to control his breath. Control his ragged emotions.

It wasn’t working.

Caleb fought hard against the sob lodged deep in his throat as he relived the memory of Rika’s death again and again at the hands of his old clone troopers. His old friends. Through the Force he’d connected with her. He’d felt the blaster bolts rip into her body. He’d felt her blood slip down her skin. He’d felt her pain. He’d felt her fear. He’d felt her love, care, and hope for him.

And then, just like with Master Billaba, he’d felt her death and the empty hole it left in his life.

Anguish rocked him, but as much as he wanted to mourn the old woman who’d been so kind and taught him so much, he knew he didn’t have the time. The new Empire knew he was here, that he was still alive. There would be a manhunt for him now. He needed to go into hiding. He needed to leave Kaller. He needed to vanish, somehow, somewhere before Grey or Styles found him again.

He had half a mind to let them.

Another wave of despair swelled through him and he took a choppy breath as he refocused on the Code. His emotions were getting in the way of his thoughts. He needed to calm down. He needed to think. Rika hadn’t died for him, Master Billaba hadn’t died for him, just so he could collapse and get caught now. He needed to control his emotions. They did not control him.

With that thought solidly held in his mind, he pulled his hood deep over his face again and began to make his way off the roof and onto the crowded streets. Caleb picked up a bent metal bar he could use as a walking stick and he took off his goggles and tossed them away. The clones would be looking for a runner with goggles, one who wasn’t blind, and as much as he wanted to run, to bolt, he clamped down on the urge. Rika had taught him how to hide in plain sight as a blind urchin. He would be honoring her if he used what he knew now to escape her killers.

Slowly, he made his way through the streets, his head down, back bent. The crowd parted for him, oblivious, and through it all he struggled not to let his eyes water. Not to let the waiting anguish solidify and flow in hot, wet streaks down his cheeks. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. He couldn’t.

Caleb didn’t know where he was headed. He didn’t know where was safe, if anywhere was safe. The only plan he had was finding a way off Kaller, but where? And how? Desperation raced through him again, sudden and sharp, and he reached under his hood to run a hand through his long, dirty hair. What was he going to do?

The Force surged, and the yelp that choked itself out of his throat was part fear, part exclamation, part rage, but it couldn’t get far when a hand clamped over his mouth. Terror flashed through Caleb’s body, but it dropped out of him when a familiar voice hissed in his ear.

“Shut up, kid! It’s me.”

“Kasmir?” Caleb breathed, bewildered as the Kalleran uncovered his mouth. The tall alien’s features were grim.

“What happened?” Kasmir demanded quietly from within the shadows where he’d pulled them. “One moment I’m strolling down the street, and everything’s fine. The next, every clone in the city is up in arms claiming there’s a Jedi in the area.” Kasmir’s voice dropped lower as he pulled Caleb close. “Your name’s circulating. They are looking for you.”

“They didn’t get a good look at me,” was all he could say in response, his voice hoarse and shaking. “Rika—”

Caleb choked just saying her name. A strangled sob ripped from his throat, even as he tried in vain to cover his mouth as if that would take it back.

“I know,” was all the Kalleran said, his brow furrowed but firm. “You’re sure they didn’t get a good look at you? They don’t know you’re blind?”

To collect himself, Caleb shook his head definitively. “My goggles were on, and I ran as if I could see.” With a start, he realized his hands were shaking, and he clenched them to keep them still. “They don’t know I’m blind. Captain Styles might be suspicious, since he … he did it. Blinded me. But with the way I moved? There’s no way they’d believe I’m blind.”

“We had better hope they don’t, kid,” Kasmir muttered as he crossed his arms in thought. He dropped them again as if he’d come to a decision. “For now, we’re using it to our advantage. We need to get you away from Kaller.”

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to help me?”

“Believe it or not, kid, yeah. I am. You have a problem with that?”

He did. Deep down, no matter how much he wanted Kasmir’s help, all he could think was what if something happened to this Kalleran too? Rika had already died tonight to save him. What if the same happened to Kasmir? He couldn’t risk someone else’s life. Not again. Not this Kalleran.

But he needed to get off Kaller. And Kasmir was the only way.

“I’ll find my own way,” Caleb finally said, attempting to leave but yanked back when Kasmir latched onto him. Caleb tried to tug his arm from the Kalleran’s hold, but the smuggler was strong.

“You won’t get far,” Kasmir hissed. “They’re keeping an eye on all the spaceports. They’ve already got BOLO’s out for you, and anyone even faintly resembling your appearance is being stopped and checked. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then how do you expect to get me out, even if I went with you?” Caleb demanded, his words razor sharp. “Last I checked you were docked at the spaceport. And if you’re right, I can’t exactly just hobble my way past their cordon! They’ll catch me anyway.”

“The plan, kid, is that I’m going to get my ship and you’re going to meet me in the glade we last saw each other. Then I’m smuggling you off planet. You think you can make it there?”

As much as Caleb didn’t want to, he thought about it hard. Kasmir was right. There was no other way off the planet, and no one else would even think of harboring someone who might be wanted, blind or not. No one wanted that sort of attention from the new Empire. Kasmir was the only one who would do it, and Caleb was surprised to find the he trusted the Kalleran to do it at all. There were huge bounties for Jedi, even for information leading to the arrest or death of one. Kasmir could easy turn him in for that bounty.

But Caleb knew he wouldn’t. It was clear as day in the Force, and it was because of that fact that he was considering the plan at all. Kasmir, he was good at smuggling. That was his job. It could … it could work. Splitting up for now so Kasmir could get his ship would even give Caleb the time he needed to pick up the lightsabers and holocron still hidden in Rika’s hut. If he really was going to do this, he needed them. Caleb just hoped the Imperials weren’t already there.

“Kid?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll get there,” he reluctantly agreed, turning his head down as he ran a hand through his hair. He hated this. It wasn’t safe, he was putting Kasmir in danger, but what other choice did he have? “If I’m not there in an hour though—”

“Trust me, kid, I’ll already be gone.” Kasmir pressed something, a comlink, in his hand. “Get going. We don’t have long.”

After they parted ways, Caleb still considered abandoning the plan. It was tempting to find a clone and turn himself in, insure that Kasmir wouldn’t be at risk. But both Master Billaba and Rika had died for him. Submitting now felt too much like dishonoring their memories. No, he had to survive, and he had to hope that Kasmir could get him away. That they’d both survive. But if it didn’t happen, if their plan failed, he would do everything he could to give Kasmir a chance to break away and escape. It was the only reason he stuck to the plan.

Maneuvering carefully through the streets, Caleb finally reached the outskirts of the city and dove into the forest where Rika’s hut was hidden. He slowed when he sensed it, using the Force to check the place was safe. When he saw it was clean, Caleb slipped inside and quickly retrieved the small sack that contained the lightsabers and holocron.

While in the hut, great waves of sadness lapped at him. That had been where Rika sat in the mornings, and that was where she’d insisted she make their meals. In that room was where they’d both meditated and where she’d instructed him on the skills of farsight and field detection. That was where she’d relentlessly taught him how to minimize his presence in the Force through concealment, and had given him everything she’d had a lifetime to learn. It had only been two months with her, but those two months had felt much longer. They’d meant so much more.

And now they were over, and this place … it was nothing more than a memory, one Kaller would forget in a week.

Caleb was snapped out of his thoughts when he sensed the presence of clones approaching. He left as fast as he could, stretching his limbs and muscles further than he had since the end of the Clone Wars. His chest heaved and his muscles burned, but the Force didn’t fail him. Before long he was at the clearing. Kasmir was already waiting, his ship prepped and ready. Caleb ran on board with his sack slapping his shoulder and only stopped long enough to tell the Kalleran that clones were nearby. That was all Kasmir needed to get them going.

“Stay in here until we leave the airspace,” Kasmir said as he pressed on a hidden panel, revealing a small hidey-hole he probably used to smuggle small goods.

“How do you expect me to fit in there?” Caleb demanded incredulously. Kasmir scowled.

“Would you rather be caught? It’s either that, or nothing. I didn’t take you for being claustrophobic.”

“I’m not!” snarled Caleb, his temper momentarily exploding before he took a deep breath to calm himself. This wouldn’t work if he couldn’t get his emotions back under control. He tried again, and his voice lacked its sharp bite. “I’m not.”

“Then get in.”

Carefully, he inserted himself into the small space. His knees ached where they pressed tight against his chest, and his feet and arms were aligned at strange angles. Once inside, he’d needed Kasmir’s help finding a place to stuff his small collection of deadly and damning possessions since he couldn’t move without risking falling out. The Kalleran had to force Caleb’s head up to thrust the bag between the space of his chest and his legs. With every breath, Caleb could feel the sharp corners of the holocron imprint themselves into his chest. The lightsabers sat like durasteel bars across his legs.

It was a tight fit.

“Breathe nice and slow,” Kasmir cautioned before he shut the panel. “Once I shut this, the space will be airlocked. You’ll have enough air in there for at least an hour or two if you breathe slow, but I wouldn’t try testing it.” He paused before he shut the compartment. “I really hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

Caleb didn’t respond. Instead he forced his mind silent in preparation for this next phase of the plan, and Kasmir shut the compartment. His ears popped with the pressure, but he swallowed past it and focused on his breath and conserving the little air he had.

Though Kasmir’s concern about claustrophobia was ill-founded — he wasn’t claustrophobic — his heightened Force sense made the tiny space easier to deal with, which was good. His body may have been confined but his mind wasn’t, and he used the Force to see and feel what was going on around him, even if he couldn’t do anything about it.

The ship rumbled and Caleb watched as Kasmir began to make for the atmosphere. He flew easily, as if there was no rush, no hurry, no reason to be leaving Kaller except simply because Kasmir wanted a change of scenery, and Caleb had to hand it to the smuggler. He was good. The first few minutes went by nice and silent, but then the comm crackled. A voice demanded that he land so his ship could be searched. All ships leaving Kaller were required to undergo inspection.

Kasmir asked why. The voice replied that, should he desire not to be shot out of the sky for disobeying an Imperial command, he should comply with the orders he was being given without question.

“Okay, okay,” the Kalleran said into the comm grumpily. “No need to pull out the guns and make threats. Where do you want me?” Soon the ship landed. Caleb’s heart pounded in his chest as, when Kasmir opened the ramp, Captain Styles promptly boarded.

“Stand back,” the clone ordered. Caleb watched as Kasmir did as he was told, crossing his arms as he moved to the side to lean against a wall.

“What’s this all about?”

“We have reason to believe a wanted fugitive may attempt to escape off planet,” Styles replied as he and another trooper, one Caleb didn’t know, searched Kasmir’s ship. “To defend the Empire from this threat, we are checking all transport leaving Kaller.”

If Kasmir said anything in response, Caleb wasn’t aware of it. Instead his Force sense focused on the troopers’ movements as they searched and searched. At one point Captain Styles had been standing right next to Caleb, separated only by the airlocked panel. He’d even tapped on the wall, and Caleb had fought desperately not to flinch. Anything might give him away. He’d willed his heart not to beat. He didn’t want to breathe. Toward the end of the inspection, Caleb noticed the second trooper attach something tiny to the bottom of the copilot’s seat. He hoped Kasmir had noticed.

Through the Force, he knew he hadn’t.

It took an age, an agonizing age, but eventually Styles signaled to his partner that there was nothing for them here. Kasmir was free to go, so long as he agreed to alert the Empire should he come across any fugitives. Kasmir grunted an agreement, playing the disgruntled merchant act believably. Caleb didn’t relax though, not after the troopers had disembarked, nor once the ramp had closed and the ship was in the air again. He didn’t relax after they’d passed the Imperial blockade.

He didn’t relax even when Kasmir made the jump to hyperspace.

The air hissed as the airlock disengaged and Kasmir opened the compartment.

“You still alive in there, kid?”

Caleb was already springing out of the compartment and around the surprised Kalleran. He reached under the copilot’s seat, finding the small metal object the second trooper had planted, and carefully removed it. Turning, he saw Kasmir’s eyes widened in alarm as he looked between it and Caleb.

The Kalleran snatched it from Caleb’s hand and crushed it before he quickly tapped a few buttons on a control console on the wall before putting it into a slot. The slot closed and the device was ejected into hyperspace where it vanished with a flare of light.

“Are there anymore?” Kasmir demanded as he rounded on Caleb. He shook his head.

“No, it was just the one. What was it?”

“If we’re lucky, it was just a transmitter to track the _Kasmiri_. See where she goes. If we’re unlucky ….”

“If we’re unlucky there was a comm built in, and they heard what you said when you let me out,” Caleb finished. Kasmir sighed, but nodded before he collapsed into the pilot’s seat. Caleb reached down for his small sack and settled in the copilot’s seat.

“Guess time will only tell. Either way, you’re off Kaller.”

“Thank you.”

The Kalleran waved it off as if it meant nothing to him. “You have any idea what you’re going to do next?”

Caleb sighed, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. He wished he knew what he was going to do next, but when he woke up this morning there hadn’t been a single thought in his mind about the possibility that he’d be leaving Kaller at all. Or at least, not anytime soon. There were a lot of things he hated about the place, but Rika had been there, and so had Kasmir. He’d had the beginnings of a new life; one he’d believed in and irrationally trusted. He hadn’t thought it might evaporate as easily as his first life had, not after months of quiet.

Stupid. He’d been so stupid to think that. He was adrift again. Aimless, and he didn’t have a plan. Between Rika’s death and his escape, there hadn’t been time to think of what might happen after.

Now that there was time, he was lost.

“Give me some time to think, and I’ll come up with something,” he told the Kalleran softly. “You won’t have to put up with me long. If you want, you can just drop me off at the nearest spaceport and … and I’ll figure something out.”

Silence clung to the cockpit as Kasmir stared at him. After a long moment, he calmly said, “You know, you still owe me, kid. For when I saved your life.”

Caleb’s head shot up fast as he caught onto what Kasmir was getting at. “You’re letting me stay?”

Kasmir immediately scowled. “You owe me, and I have something big I’ve been thinking about. I need a partner this once, and guess what? You’ve got the qualifications I need.”

Caleb could only stare with his unseeing eyes, disbelief written across his face. “You’re letting me stay.”

“Shut up, before I change my mind,” huffed the Kalleran in defeat as he looked away grumpily, and Caleb … Caleb didn’t know what to think. Kasmir was letting him stay. He wasn’t going to kick him out or abandon him to the galaxy. Kasmir wanted Caleb here.

But why?

He didn’t ask, but he couldn’t help feeling relieved, even if it was tentative and bittersweet. Kasmir … Kasmir was helping him again. He’d risked his life to help him twice now, and now Kasmir was risking his life to let him stay. The only friend Caleb had in the whole galaxy was risking his life for him again.

Maybe that was the reason. They were friends. Somehow, over the last six months, they’d become friends. And though he should insist that Kasmir abandon him somewhere, or better yet Caleb abandon Kasmir … he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just … couldn’t.

“Thank you.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut it?” the Kalleran grumbled again, and Caleb couldn’t help the small smile that slipped out, though his heart still ached. “We’re going to have to change a few things though. That tell of yours, to start.”

“Tell?” Caleb reached a hand up to run it through his hair, and Kasmir looked at him pointedly.

“That. You run your hand through your hair every time you’re nervous or stressed.”

Caleb paused mid-action and stared at his hand. He did? Now that he thought about it, he guessed he did run his hand through his hair frequently. But was it really whenever he was stressed and nervous?

“Yeah, you do,” Kasmir replied as if he’d read his mind. The tall smuggler placed his hands behind his head and reclined. “But we’ll talk about that later. You’re a mess. Use the fresher and get some rest on the spare bunk back there. We’ll be at our destination in a day, and you’d better be ready. I won’t tolerate slackers on my crew.”

His words sounded cool, but the Force gave the Kalleran away. But instead of thanking Kasmir again for giving him privacy to recover from what had just happened on Kaller, to Rika, he simply did as he was told.

After he’d cleaned himself and settled on the bunk across from the one he assumed was Kasmir’s, he let his back rest against the wall as far away from the viewport as he could get. Then he just … waited. The emotions in him roiled again now that he was safe, and he closed his eyes as if that might help them settle. It didn’t. The backs of his eyes burned with pressure, but every time he thought the emotions were about to get the better of him, he breathed and focused and pushed them back. He felt like he was on a raft, adrift in a violent storm as his life shattered and fell apart again.

Quietly he ached for it as much as he ached at Rika’s passing.

Rika had been exactly what he’d needed to pick up the pieces of his life and begin the process of moving on, after Order 66. She’d been kind, caring, understanding, and wise. She’d been a grandmother to him, if it was even possible for a Jedi to have one. She’d helped him, guided him, and together they’d been happy. Foolishly he’d planned his new future on the belief that nothing would happen to her. Not once in all the time they’d spent together had he truly considered the alternative, past the usual level of caution they always had around the Imperials.

And now the kind old Miraluka was gone.

He didn’t know how long he wrestled with his emotions, struggling to contain and control them, but eventually he beat them back enough that blessed numbness filled him, even if it left him tired and drained. Hollow. Empty minded now, something bugged his Force sense. With an echo of curiosity, he looked at the sack which held the sabers and holocron. Caleb realized with a start that there was something else in there now. Something he hadn’t put in there.

Slowly he reached into the sack, slipping his fingers past the old and familiar Jedi tools to close around … Caleb’s face crumpled in confusion as he withdrew something smooth, and firm. A mask. Or half of one anyway, the upper half, and he stared at it for a long time.

It was a strange type of mask, avian in design. It crawled high up the forehead and curved gently around the sides before coming to a point along the nose, like a short bird’s beak. The bottom edge of it only went as far as below the curve of his cheek. It was an elegant piece, sturdy and old, but memorable and a little unnerving. There were no indentions for the eyes though, and Caleb knew without a doubt who this had belonged to.

It had been Rika’s. Her mask, back when she lived on Alpheridies with her people and the Luka Sene.

Idly he wondered when she’d put it in his sack. It must have been recent. He even wondered if it had been as recent as today. He wondered if her farsight visions had warned her about today, and she had given this to him while she still could. He wondered if she’d known he was going to be the cause of her death when she’d taken him in.

He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it. After a long moment staring at it, he numbly placed it against his face.

It didn’t fit. It was too big, and it was clear that it had been molded to fit Rika’s face from years of use. But he still held it there, closing his physical eyes as he let go of his Force sense for just a moment to let the matte black of the blind in. He imagined her wearing it. Imagined her as she was, alive and kind and smiling.

A startled noise erupted from Kasmir, and Caleb engaged his Force sense to see that the Kalleran was glaring at him, recovering from being surprised.

“Scared the piss out of me, kid!” Caleb removed the mask a little so his blind eyes could look at Kasmir curiously. Kasmir’s brow furrowed. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it,” he replied quietly as he pulled it down and looked at it again where it sat in his palm, all clean lines and micro scratches from a lifetime of use. “Rika left it to me.”

“That’s something to leave,” Kasmir said as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “In the dark like that, you looked like death. You know, there are a lot of cultures out there that say blackbirds are symbols of death.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows. “It’s black?” Color distinction was something he’d still been working on developing with Rika, something she’d promised he’d master if he continued to practice. He’d never experience the quality of color again, but one day he’d at least be able to know the colors of things.

Apparently, this mask was black. And that, coupled with its distinctive shape, was suggestive of a blackbird.

At the Temple as an Initiate, he’d had to learn a lot about the various cultures of the galaxy. Usually they were diverse and colorful, each possessing its own flavor, its own beliefs, its own symbolic systems which were often very specific to the race. But it was interesting to find trends across galactic cultures. One such trend often involved the symbolism of black creatures in flight, and their connection to death and the dead. A few cultures even called blackbirds ‘reapers’. Creatures with the duty to collect the souls of the dead and lead them into the afterlife.

It fascinated Caleb that Rika’s mask was that of a blackbird, when she’d been the one who’d showed him how to live a life again.

“Yeah,” Kasmir agreed as he leaned against the wall next to him. “She wore the face of a blackbird too, huh?” The Kalleran fell quiet for a moment, and Caleb stared at him curiously. Kasmir just shrugged when faced with Caleb’s blind eyes before he sank onto his own bunk across from him, laying back to stare at the ceiling.

He was still like that when Caleb finally tucked away Rika’s mask and lay down himself. Somehow sleep claimed him and swept him away with dreams filled with blackbirds and death.

* * *

 

Although Kasmir had told him to be ready to do whatever it was he had planned, when his ship — the  _Kasmiri_ , Kasmir had proclaimed proudly, unashamed of its namesake — landed on a rainy planet, he told Caleb that instead they’d be holding tight for a day or two. He had some business he need to take care of; a last-minute errand before the gig.

It didn’t bother Caleb. He spent the time meditating. Thinking. Once he even played the role of a blind urchin in the city near where they’d be raiding so he could get a better idea of the layout of the area. Know what to expect, and what they might have to deal with once they started. He didn’t ask what Kasmir was up to, and he didn’t think the Kalleran would tell him even if he did ask. Kasmir was stubborn like that. But then, Caleb wasn’t really one to talk.

Finally Kasmir declared that it was time, and Caleb was ready. He wanted to do something, needed to. The idleness was getting to him, and movement would banish the dark thoughts in his mind. Distract him from his still raw emotions. It would be a different type of mission than he’d ever done before, not only in nature, but in terms of weapon as well.

There was no familiar weight of his lightsaber at his waist, but a blaster in a holster attached to his leg. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t afford to be seen with something so damning, not when the entire galaxy was still looking for ways to find and kill him. They hadn’t heard anything about Grey or Styles, but they were being cautious just in case. If Caleb was going to work and stay with Kasmir, that meant learning how to do things the Kalleran’s way. Adapt. He’d changed out of the rags he’d been wearing and into form fitting clothing made for durability and movement. He’d tied his hair back, using goggles to help keep it in place and out of reach. He was ready.

But before the mission began, Kasmir placed something in Caleb’s hands.

He stared curiously at the helmet. It was featureless, smooth metal which concealed everything from the neck up. There was a visor that drew itself across his eyes and a comm built into the left side, but otherwise it was … a featureless helmet. Nothing special.

“Go ahead,” Kasmir urged. “Try it on.”

Doing as he was told, Caleb removed his goggles. He found that, though the helmet didn’t fit perfectly at first, there was a mechanism which adjusted it to his specific features when a button was pressed, ensuring a firm fit. But it was comfortable and moved easily without the risk of falling off. It was odd though, to wear something that covered his entire face. He was used to his goggles, but this was something completely different. People would see it and know he was trying to keep his identity a secret.

“When I saw you the other night with that mask, it gave me an idea,” Kasmir explained. “If you’re going to be working with me, we need to keep everyone from finding out your secrets. Your blindness is distinctive and it’s too easy to find out. What if your goggles fall off mid-fight? A blind kid fighting is going to stick out in anyone’s mind, and that bounty on your head is steep.”

Kasmir tapped the helmet.

“But this will make it harder. No one will know it’s you, and no one will know that behind it, your eyes are completely useless.”

“Thanks,” Caleb grumbled. Kasmir shrugged.

“Your face is dangerous to both of us now, but your blindness is still your trump card. The Empire doesn’t know about it, and we need to keep it that way, kid. So while we’re out doing gigs, we’re going to give them something else to focus on instead. Get it?”

“So we distract everyone from the blindness by giving them something else to remember,” Caleb followed logically as he ran his hands over the helmet now that it was on his head.

“Right,” Kasmir replied with a grin as he examined Caleb by twisting his head this way and that. “Comlink is embedded in the left side, and the helmet will help keep your hair out of reach so you won’t touch it. The visor will throw everyone off because they’ll think you’re actually using it.”

“I’m surprised, Kasmir,” Caleb said. “That’s pretty clever.”

“I’m a pretty clever guy. It’s why I use a helmet,” Kasmir replied with pride. “Yours is a little too plain, but it was the best I could find on short notice. When we’re somewhere better, we’ll have to look into getting you something that’ll stand out a little more. Something that might help you build a reputation one day.”

“Why would I want to build a reputation?” Caleb asked critically. “I’m trying to hide. A reputation paints a target on my back.”

“You never know when you might need a well-known reputation for something, kid. Especially when no one knows it’s you they’re talking about.”

Caleb still didn’t see the point, but Kasmir just grinned wider before he picked up his own helmet — ‘shaped like a blackbird too’ the Kalleran declared as he tapped it — and put it on. Kasmir activated the comm, and Caleb heard the resounding click in his ear. The Kalleran’s voice came through nice and clean.

“You ready, kid?”

Helmet on and blaster holstered on his thigh, he turned to the Kalleran. “Waiting on you.”

“Brat,” Kasmir said as he turned on his heel, and Caleb followed, preparing himself as best he could for whatever this new life of his would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Caleb. Just when he’d gotten to a good place, things change for him again, and change is often painful. But at least he has Kasmir now, learning the ropes in this new phase of his life. I made up the stuff about blackbirds and galactic culture, but I hope you don’t mind. Symbolism in the story and whatnot. 
> 
> Also, in case you were curious my avatar is Kasmir's helmet, it you wanted a visual. Kasmir is one of my favorite characters, and the blackbird/reaper visual did kind of come from him in the development stage. Anyway, it’s weird to say I hope you liked this chapter given what happened, but I do hope you did. I’d love to know what you thought!
> 
> These Origins chapters will always come in clusters. There’s another one coming next Friday.


	15. Origins - Kanan Jarrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually do this, but this chapter in particular is heavy and painful. There will be death. Proceed with caution.

The months following the formation of Caleb and Kasmir’s partnership felt once again as if Caleb had found something good in the world. Working with Kasmir was natural, almost easy despite how at odds it was with the Jedi Code and its principles.

No matter what thievery or smuggling gig they got into, it was obvious that they made a good team. Kasmir taught him the ins and outs of the trade, and Caleb was invaluable at recon and intel ops. Between his perceived blindness and his growing Force sense abilities, they enjoyed not only smooth gigs, but ones which offered huge payoffs as well. They got along, when they weren’t arguing for the sake of arguing, and when they did happen to get into fights they always found a way out of the problem together — usually with minimal to no injuries. Caleb’s new life was exciting and lucrative, and the former Jedi took to it and to Kasmir’s presence and friendship like he’d done it all his life. It was great.

It terrified him.

Even after six months, Rika’s death still weighed heavy on Caleb’s shoulders, along with the abruptness with which it had occurred. He’d been blindsided then, blinded by relief and happiness. He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it, but he’d placed a lot of eggs into one basket — like he had with the Jedi Order — without much real consideration for what might happen if that basket dropped.

He refused to be blindsided a third time no matter how much he wanted to trust in Kasmir and this new life. He couldn’t. Destruction and death kept happening, and though he was ready to stick with this new life for as long as he could, during their few down times he was always thinking. Planning. It bothered him to do it, but he’d be stupid not to see that it was a part of his reality now, because of what he was. What he’d been.

At the very least he knew that if Kasmir was ever put in danger because of him, he had a contingency plan ready to implement, unlike what had happened with Rika or Order 66. At the first whiff of a problem he would vanish, ridding Kasmir of any ties the Kalleran might have to him. That was the only way Caleb could think to keep him safe.

He would leave and start over again without Kasmir. He already had several places in mind about where he might go next, places far enough away that his friend wouldn’t think to look for him there. He’d even been playing with names for a while now, a new alias so Caleb Dume could never be traced back to him or Kasmir. Truth was, if he needed to cut and run now, after six months and all the time he needed to create his contingency plan, he felt like he could successfully pull it off and keep the Kalleran safe.

But he hoped and prayed he wouldn’t need to. What he had with Kasmir was good. It was everything he wanted in a life that never settled. It kept him active and engaged, with a good partner to watch his back and keep him company.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t perfect.

One of their more persistent problems, which kept serving as a hard reality check, was that Commander Grey and Captain Styles were following them. Had been following them for months now. It appeared that there had indeed been a comm attached to the bug Caleb had found when they’d escaped Kaller. No matter where they went now, it felt as if they were being constantly hunted. The only thing that stopped Caleb from leaving at every spaceport they docked at was the very nature of their line of work. They were constantly on the move, never staying in one place long. The clones were always a few steps behind and whenever the clones did manage to get to their current planet, he and Kasmir were already leaving.

Even though they were safe so long as they kept moving, he was still bothered. Kasmir … this wasn’t just him being kind or Caleb repaying a debt anymore. They were partners and, more importantly, they were friends. Caleb knew if push came to shove, they were both willing to go as far as they needed to in order to protect each other. What kept Caleb up at night was knowing that anyone who’d ever been willing to do that for him had died. Master Billaba. The whole of the Jedi Order. Rika. Caleb was starting to wonder if he was cursed.

And that made him worry, because if he really was cursed, he knew who was next on Death’s list.

He suspected Kasmir knew about his worries and concerns. They never talked about it, but no matter what happened on mission, no matter how much he joked or how much of a rogue he could be, Kasmir was always there when it mattered. Whether it was to save Caleb’s skin, to bash heads, or to trust the boy, the Kalleran never faltered. And on top of that, Kasmir made sure they had a good time on every gig despite the looming shadow of the clones. Like he was trying every chance he could get to prove that Caleb could stop looking at him as if any second Kasmir might drop dead. That he should enjoy his new life instead.

It irked Caleb how often he found the Kalleran was successful, but over their time together, Caleb found he was hoping more and more. Hoping that this would work. Hoping that the curse was gone. Hoping that if it wasn’t, it would instead take him and spare his only friend.

He hoped.

It meant that, upon returning to the  _Kasmiri_  after picking up some supplies they needed for their next scheme and finding Commander Grey aiming the muzzle of his blaster rifle at Kasmir, he was devastated.

Kasmir was bleeding and it was clear that he’d been shot, though not critically. Caleb sensed it might turn that way if Kasmir was left to bleed out for much longer. He saw how much blood already soaked the ground beneath the smuggler, and how much he was still losing. His heart dropped out of his chest and his mind went blank, save for only one thing.

The curse was back, and it looked as if it would not spare this one being in the whole galaxy. The only person he cared about. The last person he cared about.

Before Caleb could so much as twitch, sharp pain struck the back of his head and he crumpled to his knees. His connection to the Force wavered and he was disoriented as his perception of the world began to wobble and swim in and out of focus around him. It was dizzying, and his dread compounded. In his shock, he hadn’t been paying attention to anything around him like he usually would. His focus had been completely on Kasmir and the deadly muzzle of that rifle still pressed relentlessly against his friend’s forehead that Caleb hadn’t noticed the ambush behind him.

As he blinked his blind eyes, drawing in a quick breath to focus his mind, his Force sight stabilized. A sharp spike of terror swelled through his blood as he saw Captain Styles standing over him, triumphant.

Caleb wondered if that was how Styles had stood over him when he’d scorched his eyes.

“Didn’t think we’d catch you, did you traitor?”

The venom in Styles’s voice was thick and harsh, and with the little remaining thought he had, Caleb did everything he could to keep his face down. He’d gone into town wearing goggles so he wouldn’t have to play blind today, but he didn’t want to give the clone a reason to notice them or to rip them off. Instead he focused on banishing his emotions, clearing his mind and keeping his Force sense strong.

They needed to get out of this. He needed to save Kasmir and that started with figuring out how he could disarm both Styles and Grey of their blasters. Styles pressed the muzzle of his rifle against the back of Caleb’s head. “Your days are over.”

“Kid!”

Kasmir’s voice was strained, but his concern was clear both in his voice and in the Force. The Kalleran groaned in pain as Commander Grey kicked him to keep him silent, and Caleb burned with anger despite the threat burrowing into his hair. No. No, not again.

But what could he do? How could he save Kasmir? If Caleb so much as breathed wrong right now, he knew either Styles would pull his trigger or Grey would shoot Kasmir. It may have been a year since he worked with the clones, but he still remembered. They’d keep Kasmir hostage to make Caleb compliant, hurt him to force Caleb to do whatever it was they wanted.

And it was working.

In that moment, Caleb knew he should never have stayed with Kasmir. He’d been so-so selfish! He should have abandoned Kasmir the day he’d escaped Kaller. But he hadn’t, and now Kasmir’s life was at risk because of that selfishness.

With rough movements the rifle slipped away from his head only to be replaced by a hand. Styles grabbed hold of Caleb’s long hair and jerked him to his feet. The boy almost lost his sight again, but he grunted and bore through the pain. Styles brought him closer to Kasmir and, all things considered, Caleb thought that was a good thing. It was hard to make a move from across the field and deal with both clones separately without Kasmir becoming further injured. Closer though meant there was still a chance he could get his friend out of this.

“You shouldn’t do this,” Caleb said once he was near enough that even Grey could hear him. “The Jedi were never traitors! We were all deceived. Do you really think my master would have betrayed you? Betrayed the Republic?” Styles tripped up his legs while he shoved Caleb to the ground, and though that made him collapse like a pile of rocks, it didn’t make him stop. “You both worshiped her! She was your hero!”

“Shut up!” Styles struck Caleb hard again with the butt of his rifle and to Caleb’s astonishment he saw stars dance before his blind eyes. They were bright pinpricks of light and he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d imagined them or not, but they caught his attention. So did the sudden roll of nausea which threatened to overwhelm him. He groaned and pressed his brow into the dirt, trying to control all the compromising sensations harassing his mind through the weakness of his body.

“You walked right into this one, didn’t you?” Kasmir hissed in pain, and Caleb was unsure if the smuggler was angry or if he was joking to lighten the mood. He did that in tense situations, but where it usually calmed Caleb down, it did nothing now. “I thought you could see everything.”

“I said shut up!” Now it was Kasmir’s turn to groan as the butt of a rifle struck him. “If I hear another word, you’re dead. You got me?”

Caleb hoped Kasmir would keep his mouth shut just this once, because he knew Captain Styles, and he knew the clone would do it if provoked. He could feel how much Styles was itching to in the Force. It wouldn’t take much at all.

“Ignore them,” Commander Grey said. “Call it in, Styles. I’m ready to be done with this. It’s gone on long enough.”

“Yes, Sir.” Styles shifted away just enough to report that they’d found the traitor and that he was now in their custody. Grey busied himself with binding Caleb’s wrists and by the time he was done, Styles already had his rifle raised, waiting for the kill order to sink a bolt into Caleb’s body.

“Let’s head back to the ship. Get the both of them up. We need to go.” Grey was already pulling Caleb to his feet, but Styles hesitated with Kasmir.

“We should kill this one,” the clone declared. “He’s a traitor as much as he is for hiding him. We’d be saving the Empire a lot of headache and paperwork if we just took care of him now.”

“No!” Caleb shouted after hearing the safety on the rifle deactivate. Kasmir glared death at Styles, even as he faced the threat of blaster fire head on. Caleb shot his head up to Grey, frantic. “No, please! Let him go. I’ll go with you, you can shoot me a thousand times and I won’t resist, but he’s got nothing to do with this. I was using him to get around, that’s all, so just please let him go.”

In his desperation, the Force sank into his thoughts and his voice. He hoped and prayed that it would help him in some way, help convince Grey to do this one thing, if only this one thing. Although he couldn’t see the clone commander’s eyes like he used to, he could feel them narrow at him for a long moment before he raised a hand to Styles.

Styles gawked at him in disbelief. Kasmir looked up too, but at Caleb instead.

“Kid, no!”

“You can’t be serious,” Styles barked, his rifle still trained on the Kalleran, silencing Kasmir with a threatening press of metal. “Grey, he’s using a mind trick on you!”

“Our orders were only for Caleb,” Commander Grey said firmly. “We have the traitor. So long as he complies, his accomplice is of no concern to us.” Grey looked down at Kasmir. “Besides, if he wants to save his own life, he needs to make it to town. By then we’ll be long gone and Caleb’s execution will have already been taken care of. So leave him. We’re done here.”

Enraged, Styles struck Kasmir with the butt of his rifle again, and they all watched the Kalleran collapse to the ground. Caleb’s heart trembled, but at least this way Kasmir had a chance. He might be able to survive this, which was all Caleb wanted in the world right now.

It was the last one good thing Caleb could do with his life.

Styles stepped over Kasmir’s prone body and viciously grabbed one of Caleb’s arms hard enough to bruise. The clone glared at him. “You so much as make a sound, and I will kill you here and now. And then I will kill your friend. Do you understand me, you filthy traitor?”

Caleb solemnly nodded, taking no chances. He’d accomplished his goal to save Kasmir, even at the price of his own life, and he wasn’t going to go back on that. Not for anything.

In the Force he watched as Kasmir struggled to drag his eyes up as Caleb was led away. The alarm in the Kalleran’s gaze was the last thing Caleb saw of his friend before the clones forced him forward, removing Kasmir from Caleb’s visual range. He closed his eyes and hoped the smuggler would understand. He hoped his friend would forgive him, one day.

They marched him forward at a vigorous pace, one which left Caleb stumbling over every root in the dense tropical forest around them. He wondered why they didn’t just execute him now, here in the middle of the trees. But then he figured they’d have to drag his dead carcass back to wherever they’d left their ship, and that was a hassle he didn’t think even he and Kasmir would consider doing. Morbidly he had to admit it was a good idea. Just walk him right up to their ramp before ending him. His body could just fall in, and that would be that.

Through the quiet journey Caleb thought that, now that the clones had caught up with him, he might feel something — fear, anger, dread, relief — but he didn’t. Now that it was just him, now that he’d saved Kasmir, there was nothing left for him to feel. His own death didn’t frighten him, and he thought Master Billaba and Rika would forgive him for not living longer if it meant he’d sacrificed his life for someone else instead.

Either way, he was content with the decision he’d made and he accepted the consequences. Peace and calm settled into him, and for the first time since Order 66, he truly felt like he was a Jedi again. No maelstrom of powerful, confusing, tormenting emotions to wade through and handle every minute of the day. Just peace. Blessed peace.

It took some time, but eventually Caleb’s Force sense picked up something in the distance, a ship. They’d finally arrived, but as they drew nearer Grey began to slow. When they entered the clearing where their small ship was waiting, the clone commander surprised everyone when he stopped short. Styles stared at him in confusion, and Caleb did too.

Instinctively he reached out with the Force only to find that Grey was an amalgam of conflicted emotions despite his stoic features. Within the clone, Caleb was surprised to find … doubt. Where Styles shined bright with righteous fury, Grey was torn by it, unsure, and Caleb … Caleb wondered if his words had somehow sunk in. If Grey was starting to realize and believe that what he and Styles were doing was wrong.

“Styles … I don’t think this is right.”

Caleb’s heart beat fast and Styles erupted.

“The brat’s in your head, Grey! He’s messing with you. We have orders, and we shouldn’t question them.”

Grey held his gaze, his eyes hard.

“Caleb’s right, Styles. General Billaba was our hero. Yours and mine. When Order 66 was issued … we just followed it. No questions asked, not one. It was like everything we’d been through had never happened. Styles,” Grey said, pain etching itself into his scarred face. “Not once did we ever question what we were doing.”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Styles growled angrily. “We aren’t supposed to question orders. We’re soldiers! If we question orders, people get killed. We get killed!”

“I killed General Billaba,” rounded Grey, the weight of the statement heavier than words had right to be. “Her blood is on my hands, and I have to live with that. But listen Styles, we have a chance to think about this now, to take a second to consider what we’re doing—”

“You’re starting to sound like one of them,” Styles shot back as he shook Caleb for emphasis, causing him to stumble and flail. “We have orders!”

“And what if the orders are wrong?”

Styles was speechless with disbelief, but Grey refused to back down or take his words back.

“You don’t mean that,” Styles said firmly to himself. “Kid’s just in your head.” Abruptly he threw Caleb down, and alarm shot through the boy as the sound of a rifle being draw and safety deactivated slipped through the air. “It’ll go away once he’s dead. It’s past time for this.”

Grey had already raised his rifle in retaliation, aiming at Styles as he stepped closer to where Caleb lay sprawled. “Don’t make me do this Styles.”

Styles glowered at Grey, eyes narrowed. “The very fact that you said that means you’re lost. If you’re going to kill me, I’m at least going to take out the traitor before you do.”

Caleb heard a click, and then the unmistakable sound of blaster fire. But where he’d been expecting pain — the memories of all the blaster fire he’d endured and survived on Kaller surging in his mind and making all his lingering scars tingle — and an abrupt end to life, none of that happened. Instead, all he felt was the sharp prickle of adrenaline as it swam in his bloodstream. Styles fell back with a shout and Caleb’s blind eyes blinked in confusion. What had happened?

“Kid!” A familiar, gruff voice hollered as more blaster fire filled the air. “Kid, quit napping and get up!”

Caleb was already moving, swinging his legs through the circle of his bound arms. He kept low, his Force sense showing him that Grey had taken cover behind a large stump nearby, and Styles was still recovering from the blaster fire he received. Using Kasmir’s cover fire to sprint the rest of the way, he finally worked his hands free of the bindings. He used the Force to propel several large and lose rocks at the clones.

“You shouldn’t have come!” he yelled to the Kalleran, and Kasmir just laughed at him as he continued to fire. The laugh abruptly disappeared and alarm flared in the Force as grenades sailed through the air. Caleb managed to catch and send one flying back through his telekinesis, but he missed the other. With a shout, he used the Force to grab Kasmir and yank him with him as quickly as he could.

But not quickly enough.

The grenade exploded and Kasmir cried out in pain before he landed next to Caleb, shrapnel and smoking burns lining his back. Fear and alarm surged through Caleb as he realized at a glance how extensive the damage was.

Critical. Maybe even fatal.

“Kasmir!”

Kasmir was still conscious, but instead of collapsing he reached down for something at his side. He grimaced in pain before yanking and lifting something to Caleb, something metal and rod-like. His lightsaber.

“Take it and run, kid!”

Caleb’s heart stilled in his chest as his breath locked in his lungs. That word was back. It had come back, like an ominous forewarning of what would inevitably happen next. He would freeze, and he would run, and Kasmir would die. Or he would freeze, and Kasmir would die, and he would run. Death was always the result, but it started with that word. Run.

Run.

Looking at Kasmir, bleeding, dying as he held out Caleb’s lightsaber, running was the last thing he wanted to do.

Blaster fire flew through the air and Kasmir screamed again as it struck his torso, forcing his grip on Caleb’s lightsaber to falter. Reflexively the former Jedi caught the lightsaber as it fell from the Kalleran’s fingers.

It felt odd in his hand. He hadn’t taken it out of its sack where he’d stuffed it at the back of his bunk since partnering with Kasmir, and the feel of it was both familiar and foreign now that he’d grown used to blasters. But the longer he held it, the more he felt as if it had never left his hand. Before he realized it, he’d thumbed it on. The familiar snap-hiss of the blade made him swallow, but with it on and gently buzzing he knew what to do. He had to end this. Grey was right earlier. This had gone on long enough, and his inaction had cost Kasmir.

For his friend, he was ending this. He was ending this now, as he should have done with Master Billaba a year ago on Kaller, or six months ago for Rika.

Caleb ripped off his goggles and opened himself up to the Force, felt it fill him, ready and waiting. His mind calmed and cleared, ready for battle once more. And then he jumped.

For his lack of practice with the lightsaber over the last year, he was pleased to find his skill had diminished little. It was like putting on clothing he hadn’t worn in a long time, and he found himself easily sliding into movements and maneuvers as if the Clone Wars had ended only yesterday. He deflected blaster fire deftly away from any direction which might result in Kasmir’s further injury, and Styles howled with rage as he advanced. The patience and tactical mind Styles once wielded so easily was lost in the fire of his hate, and he came at Caleb heedless of caution.

Distantly he saw that Grey had stopped firing and had lowered his rifle. It was just him and Styles, and in a flurry of light Caleb deftly deflected a trio of bolts back at the clone captain, right at the perfect opening in his defenses, and he watched as Captain Styles fell back to the ground. One of the blasts had caught his helmet and sent it flying, and the clone’s face was slack with unconsciousness.

Caleb immediately faced Grey, ready to take him down too, but the clone only shook his head. He dropped his rifle and his helmet to the ground.

“Enough, Caleb,” Grey said, surprising him and causing Caleb’s saber to still. “I won’t attack you anymore. You were right. About all of it.” Caleb stared with his milky blind eyes at Commander Grey. In the Force, he saw nothing but remorseful honesty. Grey wouldn’t attack him anymore.

Though he knew he was safe for the moment, Caleb was still uneasy. “What are you going to do?”

The clone looked at him, his eyes lingering for a long moment on the burn scar across Caleb’s eyes. Caleb felt guilt pulse through the Force. It had been Grey who’d sent Styles after him the night of Order 66, and he had to know that it was his soldier who had taken away his sight unjustly and out of spite.

“I’m going to make it right,” Grey finally replied as he neared where Styles lay unconscious. “We will never hurt you again.”

Resolutely, he grabbed Styles by his armor and began dragging him up the ramp and into the bay of the small shuttle. For a moment Caleb considered stopping him, unsure of what his old clone was about to do, but remained where he was. Grey’s guilt radiated in the Force, but so did repentance. The clone commander had every intention of making this right again, even if Caleb didn’t understand what he meant by that.

“I’m sorry, Caleb,” Commander Grey said with a small remorseful smile as he avoided Caleb’s sightless gaze. “For everything.”

Before Caleb could do anything, Commander Grey had piloted the ship high into the air. But as he did, he activated enough incendiary grenades to obliterate the small ship just after Caleb heard him make a report to the Imperial freighter waiting for them that they’d executed the traitor and were on their way back. With his Force sense, he watched as Grey set the ship to autopilot before moving to sit next to Styles’s limp body.

Caleb ran and jumped, covering Kasmir’s body as best as he could with his own as he felt the explosives finish their countdown. They detonated, and in the Force he could feel both clones vanish into the explosion.

Caleb’s ears rang, and the detonation beat hot and furious behind him. He waited for flaming bits of metal to begin raining around them, to strike them, but they were lucky. Nothing hit them, and after a moment Caleb looked with the Force and saw that the ship Grey and Styles had died in was gone. There was nothing left, at least, nothing recognizable.

Stunned, Caleb realized that Commander Grey … he’d freed him. Freed him of the hunt. The Empire now thought he was dead after that last transmission, and the debris was so mangled there would be no body to find. They wouldn’t come after him anymore.

He was free.

The Force rolled around him urgently, catching his attention and he looked down to see that Kasmir was bleeding profusely. Panic boomed through Caleb as he fought to control the sudden rise of his chaotic emotions. His hands shook but he ignored them as he begged the Force to help him again, and after attaching his lightsaber to his belt he gave a great heave and hauled Kasmir up. The Kalleran was heavy, but Caleb moved as fast as he could despite the weight. It wouldn’t be long before more troopers came to investigate what happened to Grey and Styles, and they needed to be gone before that happened.

While he was running, he kept himself sensitive and connected to Kasmir and his life force, and dread flared within him at every step. Kasmir’s blood drenched the shoulder his friend was draped against, and the pulse of the Kalleran’s life felt weak, and weakened with every step toward safety. Caleb urged himself to go faster, to move faster, but he couldn’t. The path was long, and Kasmir’s weight was not easy for his smaller form to bear, even with aid from the Force. Caleb was at his limit. His use of the Force was at its limit, no matter how often he coaxed it to renew his energy. The certainty grew with each breath, and with it his panic.

Kasmir wasn’t going to make it.

But Caleb tried anyway, with everything he had. He could do this! He had to, but it seemed the Kalleran had come to the same conclusion. He tugged at Caleb, so weak it made Caleb’s chilled heart shudder and cool with another layer of ice.

“Kid,” Kasmir said softly. “Kid, stop. We both know how this ends.”

“No,” Caleb growled defiantly, even as his eyes burned and his heart knew the truth. “No, this is not how it ends!”

The  _Kasmiri_ was in sight, beautiful and red and waiting, but even as he burst through the trees he knew he was too late. His strength failed him and he stumbled and collapsed in the shadow of the ship. Kasmir groaned at the impact, but Caleb was already moving, crawling with jerky movements as quickly as he could to his friend. Desperately he tried to pick the Kalleran up again, but his limbs were like jelly, useless and weak, and he felt for once like nothing more than a fifteen-year-old human boy. He couldn’t move Kasmir. His body just … wasn’t strong enough.

He wasn’t strong enough.

“Stay here, I’m getting the medkit,” he gasped as he prepared to stand, but before he could get away Kasmir’s three fingered hand wrapped around his ankle. Caleb knew he had strength enough to break the dying smuggler’s hold, but looking down at his friend he knew that to try and save Kasmir now would be nothing more than an exercise in futility.

And instead of wasting what little time Kasmir had letting Caleb attempt to save him, Caleb knew the Kalleran would rather he stay and make the most of his final moments.

“It’s no use, kid. Don’t bother.”

Kasmir’s grip on Caleb relaxed and the tiny bits of energy Caleb still had vanished. His muscles went lax and he crumpled next to smuggler, his heart heavy and in pain. He’d failed. He’d failed to protect and save his friend, and now all he could do was make Kasmir comfortable. Make the transition as painless as possible, no matter how inadequate it made him feel. The Kalleran deserved more than this. This had been all Caleb’s fault.

With numb hands and the vaguest hold on his emotions, Caleb carefully maneuvered Kasmir’s head into his lap even as his body trembled. He half-expected the Kalleran to make a comment or put up a fuss about the gentle treatment, but Kasmir just let him do it as he looked up at the sky, at the  _Kasmiri_ , at Caleb.

Kasmir took a breath and the ensuing chuckle was weak and moist, but it was real. “It was a good run, kid. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“You shouldn’t have come after me,” Caleb responded, hurt and sad and angry as he watched his only friend bleed out. “You should have listened to Commander Grey and saved yourself. You’d have survived.”

“And let them kill you?” Kasmir asked rhetorically to the air before he smirked. Blood trickled out of his mouth. “Nah, kid. We’re partners. We look out for each other. That’s what we do.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” Caleb shouted, his voice wobbling dangerously. Kasmir snorted and shifted his shoulders in a way that might have almost been a shrug.

“I’m fine with it. It was my choice,” the Kalleran replied softly. “I could have saved myself, but … I didn’t. I knew coming after you would probably kill me, and I came anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Caleb whispered and Kasmir just continued to smirk at him, even as that thin line of blood trickling out the side of his mouth thickened.

“If you ask me, it was the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. So don’t try to take it away from me.” Caleb could feel Kasmir’s belief like fire in the Force, sure and honest as it dared him to say otherwise. Caleb wanted to. He wanted to fight the Kalleran on this, to argue with him because Kasmir was so clearly wrong, but the words felt lodged in his throat. He just couldn’t say them. He couldn’t.

Kasmir appeared pleased at having won the point, but it seemed what little strength he still had to cling to life had been spent. His face creased with pain as he began to cough hard, his skin paling. Kasmir’s blood once again seeped into the ground — this time at an alarming rate — and though Caleb tried to press his hand against the wound that wept the most, hot life, it still slipped between his fingers. The Kalleran didn’t even seem to notice. He just looked up at the ship above them, beautiful and proud.

“I’m gonna miss you, baby,” Kasmir said softly to the ship above with the gentlest smile Caleb had ever seen. With glassy eyes, he looked back at Caleb. “ _Kasmiri’s_  yours, kid. Don’t think I’ll be able to take her with me where I’m going. Take care of her.”

As hard as it was to do, Caleb nodded as his heart tightened excruciatingly. There wasn’t much time left, almost none now. It tore into him, but unlike with Master Billaba or Rika, Caleb still had some precious moments left with Kasmir before the end.

It was enough, at least, to say goodbye.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’ anymore. I have a name,” Caleb said with a ragged, broken voice. His sightless eyes were thick with moisture as he held Kasmir’s head in his lap. He could feel the life energy in the Kalleran ebbing away into the Force as he continued to bleed out.

Kasmir chuckled weakly, lifting an eyebrow curiously even if it didn’t go as high as it usually would. Caleb wondered if the Kalleran could even see him.

“Yeah? Finally made up your mind?” Kasmir asked with a faint echo of his usual vibrancy. “What’s your name, then?”

“Kanan,” the boy choked out as tears slipped down his cheeks. His face pulled in agony. “Kanan Jarrus.”

“Kanan … Jarrus, huh?” Kasmir repeated between weak puffs of breath that left his lips and teeth bloody, though no more blood slipped out. There wasn’t enough left. A soft chuckle slipped from the Kalleran’s lips. “Stupid. Sounds like … my name. Everyone’s going to get it … confused.” Caleb shook with a quiet sob as he felt the last of Kasmir’s energy rise for one final moment.

“I like it,” Kasmir finally said, a small, satisfied smile pulling at his lips as his body fully relaxed. “Kanan.”

His new name had come out as a sigh, a pleased, approving sigh, but with that sigh also slipped the last of the Kalleran’s life. Caleb — no, Kanan felt his last remaining friend die in his arms, a smile still edging his lips even in death.

And Janus Kasmir was gone.

* * *

 

After darkness had settled in the forest and the Imperial troopers had concluded their investigation of Grey and Styles and left, Kanan found himself standing before the glowing funeral pyre he’d built for Kasmir. Numbness filled him all the way to his core as he used the Force to observe his friend’s cremation. The fire was warm this close, but he could not feel it. The smell of the smoke burned his nose, but he did not care.

Kanan stood before Kasmir’s burning remains — everything, including all of the smuggler’s personal effects he’d found on board the  _Kasmiri_  — and quietly let the flames eat it all away.

Little thoughts occasionally appeared out of the numbness. Stupid thoughts that ultimately meant nothing. Should he have taken Kasmir back to Kaller and burned him there? He didn’t know. Should he have collected Kasmir’s things and given them to Cheena the doctor, the only person he knew Kasmir had been familiar with? Perhaps, but that would have lead a trail back to him. A trail he couldn’t afford now. On Kaller, people knew him. Knew his face. Knew his old name. To survive, it was best if he never went back to Kaller and let every memory of the kid who’d once been Caleb Dume die.

Kanan Jarrus was happy to let it.

Kanan had also thrown away everything that had once been Caleb Dume’s as well, intent on a clean, new start, but he had kept a few … relics. The lightsabers. The holocron. Rika’s mask, Grey and Styles helmets, and Kasmir’s helmet — it and the  _Kasmiri_  were the only things of the Kalleran’s that he’d spared. They were all he’d take with him into his new life. He’d need them, after all.

Them, and Kasmir’s final gift.

While Kanan had been searching the  _Kasmiri_ earlier, clearing it out in preparation for the funeral pyre, he’d come across a box hidden at the back of Kasmir’s bunk. His old name had been scrawled across the top, and with the same numbness that had settled into him since the moment of his friend’s death, he’d opened it.

Inside was another helmet. One clearly meant for him.

It was sleek and newly made, black and suggestive of a blackbird; an odd cross between Kasmir’s helmet design, and Rika’s old mask. It wasn’t elegant like Rika’s, nor was it as big as Kasmir’s. But it was strong and durable, and it was memorable with its flared top and pointed bottom. Avian. Deadly. There was a viewing visor across the eyes, and a comlink built into the left side by the ear. Kasmir had clearly had it made for him as a gift to replace the chrome-dome he’d been using; a helmet obviously meant for a partner in crime. People would see either of their masks and know he and Kasmir worked together.

Not that it was possible now.

Kanan bore witness to his friend’s final passage as the flames died down to embers. As the night grew longer, even those embers which had eaten away his friend and the remains of his old life died too. Soon all he was left with was the night’s deep darkness, and the numbness that filled his body, his mind, and his heart.

But out of that darkness, out of that numbness, a thought rose. A thought Kanan could not ignore. With that thought, Kanan began to feel again, like a crack in a dam which grew bigger with every passing moment. With it, his heart began to burn. The pain rushed in and the agony that had birthed his new life began to grow bright with intensity.

The Empire. The Empire had destroyed everything.

The dam on his emotions disintegrated. Rage consumed him as his thoughts ran rampant. In one year, just one single year, he’d lost everything to the Empire. He’d lost his first home with the Order and the way of life he’d learned there. He’d lost the Republic and all the good it stood for. He’d lost his master. He’d lost his eyes. He’d lost his second life with Rika, and then he’d lost her too. He’d even lost Grey and Styles.

But then Kasmir. The Kalleran that had always taken a chance on him. The one who’d shown him begrudging kindness and friendship Caleb had never deserved. He’d given him a third home, another chance at life, skills, and something to look forward to despite how dangerous he was. Despite how dangerous it was to be around him.

And the Empire had killed him too.

The Empire. It was the Empire. It kept finding ways to corrupt and destroy his life, take everything and everyone he cared about and cherished. It had destroyed everything. All he had left now was the Force. The Force and his pain. The Force and his anger. The Force and his grief. The Force and his hope. That was all there was left.

And it was all because of the Empire.

Kanan screamed into the night as fury ate him alive, and with it came a flood of power. He lifted his hand and in a second the lightsaber he’d tucked away in the  _Kasmiri’s_  clearing soared to his palm, and he activated it without a second thought. The burn of rage flared through his body, and though it was impossible for him to see red, he felt it all around him as the air began to boil.

Everything went … fuzzy after that. All Kanan could recall was movement fueled by his anger, power unlike anything he’d ever experienced before lacing his muscles, fueling the Force. The Force fueling him. He remembered resistance. He remembered the taste of charred bark in his mouth, dirt under his hands, the flash of pain as a nail was ripped off. The smell of heat.

When the rage finally abated and Kanan was on his back gasping to catch his breath, he felt weak and hollowed out. His hand was still clenched tight around his lightsaber but it wasn’t activated, and with trembling muscles he somehow found the strength to push himself up. The smell of dirt and char and smoke was everywhere, and there wasn’t a sound he could hear past the throb of the blood in his ears. Groggily he focused his Force sense where it had weakened to nothing but impressions and shadows around him.

What he saw when it sharpened made his stomach twist and his heart freeze with terror.

Destruction. It was everywhere. The tall tropical trees that had stood above him, shrouded him as he paid his final respects to Kasmir were all toppled over and broken. Great searing wounds crisscross their bark, indicative of mad and uncontrolled slashes from a lightsaber. Massive rocks buried deep in the earth had been upheaved and thrown distances Kanan knew he didn’t have the strength or power to clear. The scar he’d made here in the forest was deadly and sickening, and the only thing which had escaped the rampage had been the ashy remains of Kasmir’s funeral pyre. It alone had been safe.

But what would have happened if he’d done this somewhere with people nearby?

Fear dropped like a stone into the pit of his stomach as he scrambled until his back collided with the still smoking remains of one of the fallen trees. Kanan clung to his knees, lightsaber still held tight in his gasp as he stared wide-eyed into the darkness, thinking about what he’d just done.

He’d lost control. Kanan … he’d lost control of his emotions, of his anger and this had happened. His anger had overwhelmed him, and what was left afterwards was destruction. Kanan’s body began to tremble when he realized he could feel the taint of something dark cling to him, and he was sure he would be sick. Where just yesterday his Force aura had been pristine and white to his senses, now it felt … gray. Darkened, even if only a little.

A little was more than enough.

The dark side. It had been quick. Brief. But for a moment when his anger took him, he’d let something dark in, let the strength of his terrifying emotions wreak havoc on the world around him and this had happened.

Kanan’s breath came in sharp, terrified pants, and realizing his mounting fear he struggled to reign in his emotions before they could overwhelm him again. His emotions were his, they did not control him.  He controlled his emotions, not the other way around because he was a Jedi.

Wasn’t he?

Emotion rose in him again, but this time it wasn’t anger or fear. It was sadness because … he wasn’t sure anymore. Tears ran down his cheeks in droves as confusion slammed into him. Kanan felt dirty and tainted. Too much had happened to him in too short a time, and no one in the Temple had ever taught him how to deal with such overwhelming, personal loss. How did Jedi handle this? How did Jedi handle so much pain and suffering, and still be Jedi?

He knew what every master in the Temple would have told him. Meditate. Let go of these feelings, because clinging to them would only lead to pain, to suffering, and to the dark side. That he should never have developed attachments in the first place. But he had, and now how was he supposed to let go of the pain when it penetrated all the way to the very depths of his heart? How was he supposed to move on when all this loss and suffering had birthed him into whatever he was now? The teachings of the Jedi whispered in his mind, but in the wake of everything he now knew and felt, those teaching were as weak and gossamer as silk threads. The Temple had tried to teach him methods of prevention, but what happened after if he made a mistake? What happened  _after_?

A strange bitterness collected at the bottom of his heart like dirt. There wasn’t an after. Jedi didn’t do what he did. They didn’t form attachments and open themselves up to their emotions, then to the dark side in a moment of overwhelming pain.

And if that was the case, maybe he really wasn’t a Jedi anymore? Maybe he’d stopped being a Jedi the night of the purge.

The thought sat with him, and the longer it did, the more he felt himself settling back into something that was close to the numbness that had held him so tightly earlier. The anger and the sadness was still there. The pain. The confusion. But it was far away, manageable again. Kanan sighed heavily, and for the first time in months he ran his filthy, dirt-stained hand through his long hair.

Jedi or not, what he’d done hadn’t been right, and logically he knew that so long as he chose the light side, he would not fall. But just … letting in the darkness, even briefly as he had, Kanan couldn’t help but think about it. About the power that had been right at his fingertips while he’d unleashed his emotions.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could do with that much power to the Empire.

Kanan closed his eyes against the thought, and when he opened them again, he forced his mind silent. Stoically, he looked up at the sky, at the stars as they hung in the air in their multitude, staring down at him. He stayed like that as his quieted mind slowly sifted through what remained of the broken pieces of his life.

What did he do next? He didn’t know. Now that he had calmed down, was more himself, more than anything he wanted the wisdom of Master Billaba and her patient guidance. He wanted Rika’s kind compassion which made him believe that he could live again. He wanted Kasmir, his best friend, back.

But they were all gone and if he wanted to survive, he’d need to figure out how to do it on his own now. So many people had given up their lives for his, and now he couldn’t just die even if he wanted to. For them he had to figure out a way to survive, and further, to do something good with his life. They’d all died believing in him and his goodness, even if he was starting to doubt it.

For their sake, and the memory and respect he had of them, he had to figure out a way.

But he couldn’t think of anything right now. His body ached, his mind felt beaten, and his heart was still raw. For now … for now he had the time to level out. Recover some, before he decided his next move. He was free now, after all. More than a few people had paid for that freedom. If he was going to respect them, he had to make his time count. He needed to calm down, recollect, think.

He’d deal with everything else later. Now though, he was spent, and so he’d make it easy on himself. Survive. Learn. Grow. Find a way to do good. That was what he’d focus on now.

The Force flowed around him gently, present and there in the air as a companion. Light. Soothing. Idly, Kanan wondered if what he should begrudge as well was the Force itself for allowing all of this to come about, but he found he couldn’t. The Force could only do so much. It was up to those who could use the Force to do what they could, and the Force had done everything he’d asked when he’d needed it, everything within reason. The Force was not at fault here, and it still clung to him with lightness, even if he felt the darkness edge the periphery of his being, the faintest shadow.

Kanan shakily got to his feet, intent on getting to the  _Kasmiri_  and making for space before anyone found the … mess he’d made in his rage. Chances were if anyone cared to investigate, the Empire would write it off as a skirmish Grey and Styles had gotten into before they’d apprehended him. He’d be safe, but he did need to leave.

Kanan Jarrus took one last look at the ashes that had once been his best friend, surrounded by destruction he’d unleashed, and he turned away. Sorrow lapped at him, but he pushed it back and locked it away. He’d been the cause of so many deaths, he didn’t feel he had the right to grieve or mourn any of them now. But though he’d been the root cause, he wasn’t the only factor in the equation. As he slowly moved through the darkness, he decided he needed to add one more thing to his List of Easy Things to Follow, a thing he knew he shouldn’t add, but could not ignore no matter how hard he tried.

The Empire. And making it pay.

The evil of the Empire, it needed to be purged, and one day he would be strong enough to do it. Much as he wanted to destroy it now, he knew better. It was true he was clever, but that cleverness reminded him of his own shortcomings. The simple truth was that he was young and had only achieved the rank of Padawan with the Jedi, not that that mattered anymore. He wasn’t strong enough right now, and to take on the Empire he’d need to grow stronger. He needed to train. He needed to find teachers and people and learn from them to make himself strong enough to fight the Empire. His connection to the Force needed to be tighter than it ever had been, his control over his emotions resolute so his mad rage wouldn’t happen again. He needed to be a blade. A deadly blade, terrifying, purposeful, and unstoppable. He needed to be strong enough to protect. He needed to be strong enough to destroy.

Kanan needed to be strong enough to reap the galaxy of the Empire and its evil and banish it forever.

And he would. He vowed it on the graves of all those he’d cared about, and on everything he had lost. He vowed it on the future, one filled with peace and life, for those people in the galaxy who could still lead happy lives full of hope and life and light.

Kanan vowed. And he had a feeling the Force heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take a moment to remind everyone that Kasmir is my favorite character, second to Kanan, and writing this chapter sucked. Editing this chapter sucked. But I did what I could to give him a good, satisfying death, and I hope that you agree. I love that smuggler so much, and I thought it was appropriate that he be the one to baptize Caleb into his new life as Kanan.
> 
> Also, a shit-ton of Caleb/Kanan’s development goes on here too. Poor kid’s confused and frustrated and scared and doesn’t know what to do with all his pain, but I hope you can see some of the big reasons why Blackbird!Kanan’s so … Blackbird!Kanan now. I really tore him apart … 
> 
> Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter. I did borrow a few of the clone’s lines from the comics, so there’s that. Also, the story has broken the 100k mark! How exciting is that? I don’t think I’d have made it this far without all of your interest and support. You’re all awesome :] [Here's something I drew to thank you guys](http://okadiah.tumblr.com/post/158550478261/thanks-guys-for-helping-me-get-this-far-in), so take a look at it. It’s for you. 
> 
> Now, after the upheaval of this chapter I think it’s time we leave newly minted Kanan to lick his wounds. After all, certain people are in trouble and their space-parents are not happy.


	16. Reconnect

The days spent waiting for the rendezvous were quiet and tentative. After their shared mission, their teammates’ unexpected mission, and their hot springs discussion, Kanan’s standoffish barrier was partially up again. Hera couldn’t say she was all that surprised. Whether Kanan believed her or not, she could understand how this last week had disrupted his life, even if the last few days had been largely uneventful. He’d been outed as a Force user, he’d been split from his partner, she and Kanan had been forced to work together again, and said partner had outed himself as a Force user too after years of secrecy.

Hera really wasn’t surprised that Kanan wasn’t all too chatty with her right now.

But though he wasn’t saying much, she was surprised that he hadn’t outright avoided her. After everything they’d talked about the other night, Hera had gotten up the next morning expecting to hear from Proxy that Kanan would be locked in his room for the rest of their time together. Or that a mission had come up somewhere and he’d be gone for the rest of the time all so he could avoid her.

Instead, Kanan had surprised her by pointing to some waiting breakfast and asking her if she’d be willing to run diagnostics on both the  _Kasmiri_  and the  _Escape_. Fine tune them, maybe, if she wanted.

She wouldn’t have refused anyway, not when it gave her something to do while they both waited around. Kanan’s ships were well cared for, but she had felt some of their subtle problems when she’d flown them. Given enough time, she knew she could make those ships purr, but with only a few days she’d be limited to only superficial work. But even that was better than nothing.

Though it would keep her hands busy, she’d been surprised that he’d let her fiddle around with his ships at all.

“I’ll be nearby watching,” was Kanan’s only reply as he’d sipped his caf. “So don’t think about putting a tracker in.”

“I might rig something to blow your ship,” she pointed out. “With the bounty on your head and your gleaming reputation, I’d become rich and famous if I took you out.”

“Though I’m sure of the credit’s appeal,” Kanan had replied, finally turning his milky eyes toward her. “I doubt a rebellion operative wants that kind of publicity. Besides, you still need my ships to get to the rendezvous.”

“I could rig a timed explosion,” Hera amended with a shrug. “Not that hard.”

Kanan had chuckled before finishing his caf and standing. “True, but I don’t think you will, darling. I can feel it in your Force aura.”

“That’s called cheating, luv,” she’d replied as she’d watched him pick up a sword from a rack. He gave it an experimental warm-up swing and the air had whistled at its passage. Kanan had shrugged at her.

“I’d say it’s using my skills to the best of my ability. Toolboxes are over there.”

And that’s what it had been like for the last few days. Her working on the ships, and Kanan engaging in elaborate training exercises or meditation nearby. It was a quiet routine, and the only deviation came in the form of Proxy, whom Hera was coming to like better and better every day.

The amiable droid was always willing to help her with whatever she needed, or keep her company during those times Kanan was meditating out alone at the lookout. Proxy showed her the rest of the barracks, and it was much bigger than she’d originally thought. There were empty meditation rooms, a library, and a dusty armory Hera was certain hadn’t seen use in years. She also had him take her by the stone door he’d told her about when she’d first arrived, in the hall opposite the barracks rooms. Barred up and ominous, the ancient stone door stood like a warning in the dark. She’d pressed her hand against it and a shiver had run down her back in response. She’d offered no opposition when Proxy suggested they move elsewhere.

On these walks, Hera couldn’t help but subtly pry the droid for information. He was a good droid though, loyal, and she wasn’t surprised when he managed to evade and sidestep her questions about Kanan and the Rider easily. But he freely gave away his own story as if it meant nothing at all.

“Oh, Kanan found me years ago on Raxus Prime,” Proxy told her after she’d asked where he’d come from while they strolled. Her brows lifted.

“That junk planet?”

“Well … yes,” Proxy agreed, looking away in a manner that appeared embarrassed, even on his immovable metal face. “That’s where he found me. I was broken and lifeless. My memory circuits were mostly destroyed, and when he managed to power me back on, I couldn’t recall anything. I don’t know what my function was, before I woke up. I don’t know who owned me or what I used to do.” The holodroid kept his photoreceptors forward as they walked passed the library again on their way back to the main atrium. “I was just … thrown away.”

“I can’t imagine why someone would want to throw you away,” Hera couldn’t help but comment. Proxy’s abilities made him excellent at espionage, and she’d never seen technology quite as discrete as his. Hera knew if she’d found Proxy on Raxus Prime and knew what he could do, she’d have taken him in a heartbeat.

Proxy’s photoreceptors had turned to meet her eyes. “Neither can I. But I suppose there must be something wrong with me. I am still broken, after all. I malfunction, though Kanan and Rider do what they can to keep me working. It’s kind of them to keep me around like they do, and I do what I can to be of use.”

Hera had stared at the droid as he walked past her into the cavernous atrium, asking her if she’d like lunch. The droid had no sense of self-worth, even when he could transform into believable holoprojections, fly a ship, fix a hyperdrive, provide intelligence, and who knew what else? No wonder he came off nervous sometimes. He was probably worried he’d be thrown away again.

If Kanan was mercurial and Proxy was anxious, it made her wonder what Rider was like, if these two were the way they were.

Sometimes at night, or early in the morning, she thought she heard muffled shouts. Once it startled her awake so violently that she’d dashed out of her room with her blaster ready, expecting an attack. Proxy was already in the hallway between hers and Kanan’s room, and he’d given her a soft mechanical sigh.

“It’s nothing to be worried about, Hera. Kanan has nightmares, sometimes.”

Screams of panic had still echoed in her mind. They’d sounded terrified, bordering on horrific, and it was hard to believe that those screams had possibly come from Kanan. She’d been unsure what to do.

“Should we wake him?”

Proxy had shaken his head. “He’s most likely already awake.”

Hera hadn’t been able to go back to sleep that night, and not long after she’d heard soft footsteps move past her door and away. She wondered what Kanan dreamed about which would make him scream in terror like that. He wasn’t a man that scared easy, that much she knew.

In the morning, though she suspected he knew she’d heard his night terrors, he hadn’t said anything and she thought it wise not to bring it up. She wouldn’t have expected a response anyway, at least not an honest one. Not given the durasteel defenses he protected his secrets with. That had been a quieter day among the lot.

The evening before they were set to leave, Hera was just finishing up the last of her work with the  _Kasmiri_  when she saw Kanan. Usually when he was around, he was on a distant rock meditating, or passing by. This time he’d walked right up to her, patiently waiting. She wiped the wrench she was using clean as she turned from the ship before tossing it into the toolbox.

“You know, although neither you, Proxy, or your partner are ship mechanics, your ships are in good condition,” Hera muttered as she rubbed oil from her cheek. Her knees popped as she stood to face Kanan.

“Rider’s a decent mechanic. He does what he can, and we outsource any big repairs.”

“I see. Well, I managed to tighten the steering in the  _Kasmiri_ , and the exhaust emissions of the  _Escape_  work more efficiently now too. There are several other repairs or upgrades I’d recommend you make, especially on the  _Kasmiri_. I assume it’s your primary ship for missions, if the carbon scoring along its hull is anything to go by. Another thing you should take care of, by the way. But I’ve done what I can with the time I’ve had.”

Kanan hummed as he looked at his ships. Then he looked back at her with his blind gaze.

“I appreciate it.”

She shrugged. “It gave me something to do with my time. I’m not like you. Meditating all day doesn’t have the same appeal for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he replied, walking with her after she’d taken up the toolbox to head inside. “Your focus when working on the ships could be considered its own form of meditation.”

“It’s just concentration.”

“That’s all meditation is.”

Hera sorted softly. “Fair enough. Anyway, the ships are both ready for tomorrow, though I think it’s best to take the  _Kasmiri_. I did the most work on her and I’d like to check my work to make sure she runs right.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Kanan asked, his voice echoing in the dark tunnel.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me until she does work,” she mused. “I couldn’t leave her when I broke her.”

“Then let’s hope she runs beautifully. That way there’ll be nothing to stop you from getting back to your crew. I can only imagine how much you’re itching to get back to them.”

Hera hummed and watched his back move as they entered the bright cavern. She knew she wasn’t the only one who wanted to get back to their team. Though she was fairly sure Kanan didn’t know it, she’d seen him conferring with Proxy about the Rider; this mysterious Force user named Ezra.

Though she couldn’t wait to see Sabine and Zeb and the droids, she had to admit that who she most wanted to lay eyes on now was Kanan’s partner. He’d worked with her crew, protected them while they’d rescued those rebellion sympathizers. She wanted to know what he thought of all of this, and how he fit in with someone as unpredictable as Kanan.

“Daydreaming, Hera?”

“About the  _Ghost_ ,” she replied without missing a step as she passed Kanan. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got some nice ships, but compared to the  _Ghost_?” Hera shook her head.

“Well, in a few hours you’ll have her back,” he replied. “I’m sure you can’t wait for that either.”

Hera didn’t say anything. She was ready to go back, true, but what happened after she left was something of a mystery. It was entirely possible that Kanan and the Rider would vanish after everything that had happened, and the thought of losing track of them, of Kanan again, made her reluctant to leave. Whether Kanan believed it or not, she saw the potential in him. She didn’t want to see it fall away.

That night she didn’t get much sleep, with her mind filled with Kanan and what might happen after their teams were straightened out again. Though she’d delivered the rebellion’s message, though he’d told her no, she couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let him slip away a third time, and she suspected that if he did she would never find him again. What was the best way to proceed? How did she stop that from happening? That question tormented her for hours.

When Hera got up with something that resembled a plan and was ready to leave, she saw that Kanan had already beaten her to the cavernous room. The sight of him, however, filled her with disappointment. It was a hard thing not to make a face when the familiar dark clothing and armor that was the Reaper’s clung to Kanan’s body like a second skin, and involuntarily she looked up. The scythe was still right where it had been all week, a skeletal black figure in the shadows above.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be taking it,” Kanan told her without looking up from where he was strapping on a holster before tucking a blaster into it. “I’ve got an appearance to keep up. That’s all.”

“My crew is trustworthy, Kanan,” Hera said. “You could go as you are, and they will keep your secret.”

“Sorry, darling. Trust and me don’t get along all that well. I’d rather not take my chances.”

“Then what are you going to do about me, Kanan?” Hera asked seriously. She was disappointed that the conversation was already turning this way, serious and real and distrustful now that they were about to leave, but a part of her had expected this. Kanan the Gunslinger was now replaced more with Kanan the Reaper. He was distancing himself.

It didn’t mean she liked it.

Kanan stopped moving, but he didn’t raise his blind eyes. He kept them lowered at the ground. “You had five years to expose me, Hera. You’ve had ample time to try and murder me here, and you haven’t tried. I can feel in the Force how unlikely it is that you’ll betray me.” Now he lifted his eyes and, blind as they were, they were hard and resolute. “But Hera, if you think I can’t find you or your crew, you’re wrong.”

The threat there tainted the space between them with the same malevolence that his scythe and the shade that had appeared from it had, and Hera narrowed her eyes as she put a hand on her hip. It felt like all the careful work she’d put into this past week had just evaporated.

“I thought we were past threats, Kanan.”

“With me … don’t expect to be past anything.” His face fell and grew impassive. “It’s not a threat if you don’t betray my trust.”

 “I won’t betray your trust,” she said firmly. “But perhaps you should give me and my crew a little more faith.”

Kanan gave the faintest of snorts. “How about we check in in another five years? Then we’ll see if your crew has earned any of my trust.”

Hera rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to strangle him for his stubborn bullheadedness. Instead she watched as, now fully equipped, Kanan reached for the Reaper’s helmet sitting like a weight by his side on the table. He surprised her when he didn’t put it on.

“No need to. Not yet,” he muttered when she’d let her gaze rest on it long enough. Then a smirk flashed across his lips. “Not unless you’d prefer it over this handsome face.”

“And here I’d thought the rogue in you was already gone. Nice to see I was wrong,” Hera quipped, and that smirk was quickly forced under. Hera hid her own. His teasing comment had come up on its own, despite the Reaper facade he insisted on wearing right now. Maybe the gunslinger wasn’t so far away?

She’d have to wait and see. For now they had somewhere to be, and she walked past him toward the exit. “Come on. You said it yourself. We’ve got to go.”

“Goodbye, Hera,” Proxy called from where he monitored the command console. He would be staying here on Lothal while the rendezvous occurred, keeping an eye on the news while Kanan was gone.

“Goodbye, Proxy,” she replied with a kind smile. “I’ll see you later.”

“I hope so,” the holodroid told her with an uplifted tone, and behind her she could all but feel the disapproval rolling off Kanan.

But he said nothing and merely followed behind her in silence.

* * *

 

Out in the reaches of space in the remains of a forgotten Republic outpost, Kanan watched stoically as a ship manifested within the scope of his sight — the  _Ghost_  if the softening of Hera’s shoulders was anything to go by. It waited for them on a field of grass, and Kanan immediately focused his senses and was grudgingly pleased. He couldn’t feel Ezra’s Force presence, but he could make out the shape of him from the small gathering lingering idly by the  _Ghost’s_  ramp. The wave of relief that swept through his body was heady. Though Ezra had sent those messages letting them know he was fine, it was one thing to know it and another entirely to experience it.

No matter how angry he was with his apprentice, he was glad to see him safe and alive. Beside him, he felt Hera’s relief roll and mix with his own as they drew near enough for normal sight. He wasn’t the only one who’d missed their partners.

With deft precision, Hera slipped the  _Kasmiri_  on the ground beside her ship. As she settled them, Kanan pulled on his helmet. Hera made a face and he kept his body language blank.

“Is something wrong, Hera?”

“I promise, Kanan. You don’t need that.”

He didn’t say anything. He only stood and waited for her to do the same. Kanan would not fight about this again. The helmet was staying on. Couldn’t she see it wasn’t only to keep his identity a secret, but to protect the rest of her crew?

Her lips thinned but she didn’t press again. Instead she activated the ramp and strode out, and Kanan followed a few steps behind her. As his feet touched grass, he saw that their partners were already approaching. Kanan was impressed that his apprentice did not visibly cringe when he saw Kanan masked, when the boy himself stood there with nothing to hide his identity.

Kanan let a tendril of clear disapproval seep into the Force, and the wobble in Ezra’s Force stealth was telling.

The Mandalorian girl gave Hera a smile, though her eyes were alert as they quickly glided over him. Checking him, he could guess, for threats.

“You made it. We were a little worried.”

“They were a lot worried,” Ezra amended, and Kanan caught the slight widening of Hera’s eyes as she saw the boy for the first time. “But I told them that Reaper would get you here just fine.”

“Can’t blame us for being skeptical,” the Lasat muttered with his arms crossed over his large chest.

“Well, I’m here. We’re all here,” Hera replied smoothly. She shot a quick glance at Kanan out of the corner of her eye, then she gestured to her crew. “Reaper, this is Zeb and Sabine. Over there is Chopper.”

The squat droid he’d seen in the holoclip warbled as it rolled itself down the ramp to get a better look at him. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know any of their names. These introductions were unnecessary, and it wouldn’t matter what their names were once he and Ezra left.

“I’m Ezra,” Ezra said before Kanan could tell him not to, and the boy gave Hera a smile. It was a struggle for Kanan to control his deep annoyance for his idiotic apprentice. Couldn’t he see it wasn’t a good idea? Obviously not, because he continued to talk anyway. “You must be Hera, right? Your crew was telling me about you.”

“I wish I could say the same about you, Ezra,” Hera said kindly before she tipped her head at Kanan, her lekku flicking a little at the ends. “Your partner here has been tight-lipped.”

Ezra’s smile turned sympathetic, and Kanan was sure the galaxy was against him now that Hera and Ezra were both talking to each other. He should have seen this coming. But now that the niceties were concluded and names were exchanged, Kanan was struck by how surreal this was. He and Ezra had never been the Reaper and Rider around anyone before, not like this. It was worse since Ezra had blatantly shed his anonymity with an ease that made Kanan uncomfortable. Kanan tried not to fidget with how naked he felt, despite his persisting masked obscurity.

“It’s good to see that you’re okay, Hera,” Zeb said after casting a warded glance in Kanan’s direction. “Ezra said you’d be safe, but we were waiting to see for ourselves.”

“That’s more than could be said for all of you after the mess you got yourselves into,” Hera said pointedly and in an instant, all of them including Ezra, Kanan was surprised to see, shrunk.

“I take it you heard about what happened earlier in the week?” Zeb ventured as he rubbed the back of his head, and Kanan crossed his arms.

“I’m sure everyone heard about what you all did,” he replied coolly. “It’s all over Imperial channels.”

“What were you all  _thinking_ ,” Hera demanded. “Take the  _Ghost_  for a joyride while I’m gone and get into trouble? It’s not like you.”

“Fulcrum offered the mission,” Sabine replied, clearly attempting to salvage the situation, and Kanan’s eyes narrowed. Whoever this Fulcrum was, he already did not like them. “It was time sensitive, and those sympathizers needed help.”

“We just hadn’t expected it to blow up as big as it did,” Ezra said, but it was directed to Kanan as opposed to Hera. “It was supposed to be a covert operation, Master.”

“With a nexu, the Rider, a colorful demolitions expert, and a blaster happy Lasat?” Kanan scoffed. “You expect us to believe that?” He shook his head and more quietly he murmured to Hera, “It’s amazing the difference, isn’t it? We had our own mission and we haven’t heard a peep about it from anyone.”

“Isn’t it?” she agreed with a soft sigh. Then she addressed their gathered partners. “I understand that the people you rescued needed your help. I’m not disappointed by that. But surely you could have told us. Ezra sent a message before this even happened.”

“We couldn’t wait for a reply,” Ezra argued, and this time he was speaking directly to Kanan. “If we did, we might not have made it in time.”

Kanan was not convinced.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if we hadn’t been able to reply. We could have made it in time as backup. Instead we were blindsided by Imperial reports.” Kanan touched the temple of his helmet in agitation, an alternate motion since he couldn’t run his hand through his hair. “Ezra, that was an Inquisitor!”

“Yeah, and I’m fine! We’re all fine.” Ezra replied quickly before he looked down. “You trained me to handle them, and I did. With their help.”

Anger kindled in Kanan’s heart as he mentally replayed that holoclip of Ezra fighting that Inquisitor. What if he hadn’t had help? What if Hera’s crew had abandoned him, or the Inquisitor was more powerful than he’d been able to handle?

Beside him he felt Hera stiffen. In the Force he looked at her, and realized that the air was warming in response again to his anger.  Kanan took a slow, calming breath, ignoring how quickly Hera had picked up on his temper, and the air once again began to cool.

Though he could feel her caution lingering in the Force, she kept it off her face as she stopped both Kanan and Ezra from continuing the fight with a statement of her own.

“At least give me a status report. I know your message said everyone got out safely.”

“Yes. We managed to get all of the captured sympathizers out of the base, with Ezra’s help,” Sabine said, quick to stick with the highlights. The Mandalorian’s no-nonsense attitude was doing some good calming Kanan’s low-burning anger. Though he still glared at his apprentice from behind his helmet, he would wait to have the rest of their conversation until they had some real privacy. Sabine continued. “No casualties on our side. Some light injuries. No damage to the  _Ghost_.”

“Rosie’s back home,” added Ezra and Kanan rolled his eyes. Though he was relieved that the nexu was safe on Cholganna again, she was low on his list of concerns. “Aside from … well, the obvious, everything went well.”

“I’d hardly call you revealing your Force abilities as things going ‘well’, Apprentice,” Kanan said, and this time he felt Ezra’s stealth flicker. Disappointment and guilt tinged his aura, and much as Kanan wanted to tear into his foolish ward again … instead he sighed.

He couldn’t be too hard on him, because much as he wanted to argue, Ezra was right. Kanan had taught him Jedi ways, and he’d also taught him survival. The boy had used both to keep himself and the others safe, and like it or not, Ezra had done well. Kanan just wished it hadn’t had to happen at all. It put Ezra at risk. Made everything more difficult. More dangerous.

But for now … for now Ezra was safe. And that was all that mattered in the end.

After a pregnant pause, Kanan said, “But what’s done is done. We can’t take it back now. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Ezra stared back at him, a small frown on his lips, but he nodded. Though the guilt didn’t quite go away, it did lessen. Beside him, Hera nodded in agreement.

“We’re both glad you’re all all right. All things considered, it could have been worse.”

“Maybe,” Zeb agreed. The Lasat stared at Hera critically. “And you?”

“We’re fine. I’m fine. We didn’t get into any trouble like you did after we left Garel.”

Kanan said nothing for or against her statement, though he thought she skirted the fine line of a lie. They might not have had to fight an Inquisitor themselves, but Hera had stumbled upon monsters of her own. Monsters he should have stopped her from encountering. Almost as if alerted by his thought, Zeb lifted an eyebrow.

“Then what about that?”

Hera’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” Zeb’s clawed hand waved at Hera’s neck, and Kanan’s heart cooled. The bruise was much lighter than it had been, but there was still no denying its presence. To Hera’s credit, she didn’t even look at Kanan. “It’s nothing. Touched something I shouldn’t have and got taken by surprise.”

Zeb’s frown deepened, but Kanan hardly noticed. In the Force, he could feel Ezra’s curiosity, then to his discomfort, his realization. Ezra knew exactly what had happened to her neck. And what had done it to her.

For the moment Kanan was glad for his helmet. Though his face hadn’t so much as twitched in response to anything she was saying now, he was relieved that at the very least his apprentice couldn’t look directly at him with accusation and knowing in his eyes.

He didn’t think he could meet that gaze.

Though it was clear her partners weren’t convinced, Hera was quick to distract them with talk about what her crew and Ezra had done while they weren’t off dancing in front of the Empire. It didn’t distract Ezra. Kanan knew from the glint in Ezra’s eyes that if they didn’t leave soon, he might start saying things Kanan would not appreciate.

They needed to go.

Before the conversation could deepen, Kanan’s voice slipped into the air as he turned away.

“Ezra, let’s go. We’re leaving.”

The boy frowned, his eyes flicking quickly to his new friends, and it looked as if he were about to argue. But before Kanan could herd his apprentice away, a gentle hand appeared on his shoulder, snagging his attention. He glanced at Hera.

“Wait,” she said. “Before you go, I’ve got something to give you.”

He breathed through his nose and his jaw tightened. He shouldn’t. Whatever this was, it was a bad idea, but even so he tilted his head questioningly. Hera placed a hand on her hip. Even after a week in her presence, he knew what that meant.

That stubborn attitude of hers was rising, and he suspected that if he wanted to leave without being further harassed, the best way of doing it was by humoring her.

“Fine,” he replied quietly. “Lead the way. Ezra, be ready when I come back.”

Though she said nothing in response as she headed into the  _Ghost_ , he felt her aura shift in relief. Behind him he felt Ezra’s curiosity break stealth and spike, his apprentice’s eyes widening as he watched him go.

Ignoring Ezra, Kanan followed Hera into her ship, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking around. It was a nice ship. Spacious, strong, made for life on the move. He wondered what sort of combative specializations Hera had made to it. Given the way the  _Kasmiri_  sung for her now, he knew this girl had to have some special tricks up her sleeve.

“Captain Syndulla, welcome back,” a battered old AP droid droned as it passed them on the way to the ramp. “I’d estimated your return at sixty-five point four percent. Though I had expected you to come alone.” The droid looked at Kanan. “I’d estimated your presence here at less than point two percent. Surprising.”

“Thanks AP-5,” Hera said as they passed. Kanan stared at the droid but said nothing, even though that ‘surprising’ had an edge to it he didn’t appreciate.

After climbing several rungs up to the second level after the Twi’lek, she led him down a small hallway and then into a room. A cabin, one he realized that must have been hers. While she dug around in a drawer on the lower bunk, he let his gaze drift as he took her room in.

It was clean, with soft touches here and there that made the space feel less like cabin quarters and more like a true room. An elaborate mural was painted along one wall, one that depicted her crew and her droids grinning together mischievously, a family if he’d ever seen one. There was another image on the wall that housed her bunk, one that depicted a desert, with high cliffs and an elaborately colored twilight. He wondered if that was her homeworld.

On a counter near him wedged between tools and a box of spare parts, to his surprise, was a gleaming piece of clear crystal.

Kanan’s mind hushed, and transfixed he pulled his helmet off and reached for the small rock. It was smooth, the rough edges worn over from years of touch. His own thumb stroked over the smooth stone and memories whispered through his mind. Of Gorse. Of Cynda.

Of old man Oke.

“You took a piece with you?” Kanan asked quietly, turning a little so that she could see what was in his hand. Hera looked up long enough to recognize the object.

“Your friend gave it to me, actually,” Hera replied, and it was a struggle not to let his surprise show on his face. She turned back to digging. “I like to play with it while I think.”

“I see,” he replied softly, stroking his thumb over the crystal again, thinking of another piece similar to it. An entire moon of it. Kanan put it back down before his mind brought up memories he didn’t want to think about. “What is it you wanted to give me. Or did you just want a little more time alone with me before I go?”

“Oh, you know me so well,” Hera said with light sarcasm before she straightened and lifted her hand to him. In it was a comlink.

“Here.” She pressed the small comlink into Kanan’s hand. “You don’t have to use it. But if you ever need anything, if there’s anything me or my crew might be able to help with, you have a way to get in contact with me.”

Kanan stared at it with his blind eyes, turning it over in his hand as he considered what he was going to do with it. Smash it? Use it? Forget about it?

He didn’t know, but something rose in Kanan, something small that was relieved that _maybe_ he might not have to lose track of Hera after all. But the Reaper in him lifted its head and smothered it. Forced it back.

“You know, this doesn’t change anything,” he told her.

“I know,” Hera said, undaunted by his abrupt change in attitude. “Like I said, you don’t have to use it. But it’s an open channel if you do.”

“I won’t though.”

She didn’t say anything, only gave him a small, strangely optimistic shrug that suggested she didn’t quite believe it, or at least that she didn’t want to. But what she didn’t know was that despite his personal desires, he was dead serious. The last week hadn’t changed things. It had only been a week in deviation, that was it. He was still the Reaper. Despite how he might have had a … decent time with Hera, it didn’t change anything.

He wasn’t going to see her again. Her or any of them. And if he had his way, Ezra wouldn’t either.

Hera took a few steps closer to him, closing the distance between them and slowly took his hand in hers, covering his fingers where they curled around the comlink.

“Just keep it. Even if it’s only as a memento.”

Her fingers were warm around his. It was the first time she’d touched him since the gala, and with just a touch the resolute durasteel that had lined his intentions softened. This would be the last time he’d see Hera. No more incredible displays of flight. No more dazzling wit and stubborn will. No more beautiful voice.

Kanan blinked when he realized that his hand had turned over on its own to hold hers. Hera lifted an eyebrow at him and he gave the softest of sighs before he shook his head at himself. Before he could think twice, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss there.

“There are better mementos than a comlink, you know,” he pointed out. Hera smiled.

“Oh? Such as?”

The teasing tone in her voice was warm and Kanan … he was weak. But this was the last time he’d see her. Maybe he could let himself be weak, just this once? Take a truly rare moment to indulge, like he had at the gala. Kanan leaned toward her, taking a chance and his heart raced when she didn’t retreat. His nose lightly skimmed hers.

“Other things,” he whispered with a small, growing smile. “Things I might have to apologize for.”

It was as if it was the night of the gala again, only this time they weren’t dressed to the nines and hiding behind pretenses. Though Hera had been gorgeous that night, here like this in her flight suit, embracing her position as pilot and rebellion operative in this ship she owned, she was more beautiful. More real.

“Ah, those things,” Hera whispered back, her breath warm on his lips. Kanan chuckled, and for a moment … for a moment he forgot that this really wasn’t a good idea. That this might haunt him later. Right now however, with the world outside of Hera’s cabin, nothing but thin air between them, he didn’t care.

He wanted this, something so small for himself. He abstained from everything; surely he could allow himself this? Especially when it felt as if, when she looked at him, reality relaxed. That it would turn its eyes from them and pretend it wouldn’t see what transpired.

Her eyes rose to meet his, and the curl of her smile gentled. Slowly she pulled away, and he blinked as if released from a spell. His mind slowly came back to him, reality came back to him, and he half-wondered if it was only because she’d allowed it.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait,” Hera told him, though she hadn’t pulled her hand from his. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to hear any apologies yet.”

Kanan smirked and shook his head at her, but said nothing. He didn’t trust his voice now, nor the words which might slip out. She’d said ‘yet’. If only. Much as he might want that ‘yet’, he knew there wouldn’t be one. There  _wouldn’t_. Foolish.

He just wasn’t sure who he was referring to.

Kanan gently pulled his hand from hers and pocketed the comlink. As far as mementos went, he’d just have to make do with it and what memories he already had. As it was, it was time to go, and there was no use lingering for either of their sakes.

“Well, if I’m not going to be apologizing for anything, I think it’s time that I take my partner and leave you and your crew in peace.” He put on his helmet, and this time Hera watched him not with a frown, but with a look of bemusement.

“All right, Mr. Reaper. Since I’m sure you’ve got the Empire to terrorize, I guess I won’t hold you up much longer.” She activated the door to her cabin and lead him out, and not long after they were outside again. There must have been something in their combined countenance which everyone could read, because the amiable chatter that lingered between her crew and his wayward apprentice dwindled away.

“All right, come on. It’s time we all get going,” Hera told her Mandalorian, Lasat, and droids. “We’ve got things to do, and I still want a full debriefing on everything that happened while I was gone.”

Her crew obeyed immediately, and as they passed Ezra, Zeb clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“See you around, Ezra.”

“See you, Zeb,” Ezra replied with a grin. His grin brightened as he addressed Sabine. “Next time you’re going to have to show me those explosive spray paints you were telling me about.”

“Count on it,” the Mandalorian said with a matching grin as she also passed by. The old astromech gurgled gritty binary, telling Ezra that he wasn’t so horrible an organic as he’d first assumed while AP-5 commented that his stubby companion needed to clarify what exactly he meant by ‘not so horrible’. Kanan could only watch this exchange with a strange sense of disbelief.

It had only been a week, but it appeared that Ezra had been with them for much longer. Beside him, Hera shifted, lifting an eyebrow.

“You know, we could stay for a little while longer.”

“But you’re the one that said you’ve got things to do,” he replied pointedly without allowing himself to think about her offer. He turned to face her and was struck by the notion that he wished he could do this face-to-face, without his helmet on. If this was the final time they would speak, he’d have liked to have one less barrier between them.

But he was the Reaper right now, despite what she believed, and while the helmet was on, that was who he would be.

“Goodbye, Captain Syndulla.”

“Until next time, Kanan.”

Kanan frowned at her informal and pointed reply, but said nothing. Dauntless, Hera turned and strode back toward the  _Ghost_ , and with each step Kanan felt the distance between them grow in the same way it felt to draw away from the warmth of a sun. Cooler. He watched her go in the Force, and a small thrill he shouldn’t have felt raced up his back when she glanced over her shoulder one final time at him. Then she addressed her crew and boarded her ship.

Ezra stepped up beside him as they watched the  _Ghost’s_  ramp close, then he looked at Kanan.

“Master?”

“Come on.”

With Ezra in tow, he followed Hera’s lead and promised himself he wouldn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are finally with almost a full cast gathering. Not quite there yet, but we’re making it. Anyway, this chapter was supposed to be longer but again I split it into two parts. Expect the second part sometime in the next few days. A great place to check for updates about when I’ll next post (or miss a post, when that happens) is on [my tumblr](http://okadiah.tumblr.com/).
> 
> On a side-note, I like to imagine that everything that existed in Legends ended up on Raxus Prime, and that it’s all just there, waiting to be resurrected or recycled or reused. Hence Proxy, who is a part of Legends in The Force Unleashed. Here's [some pictures](http://okadiah.tumblr.com/post/159048310311/just-a-couple-of-pictures-of-proxy-from-the-force#notes) of him if you were curious what he looked like.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Keep an eye out for the second part soon.


	17. Promises

Ezra watched the black of space bleed into glowing starlines as the  _Kasmiri_  left the  _Ghost_  and its crew behind. Kanan hadn’t said a thing since boarding, the heavy weight of silence making the ship feel claustrophobic, and he shifted in the copilot’s seat as he eyed his master.

“Kanan?”

“You have a good time with your new friends?” Kanan asked as he finally turned his head to address Ezra. Kanan had taken his helmet off almost the moment the  _Kasmiri’s_  ramp had shut, and his familiar blind gaze was calm and collected. Ezra knew from experience that _that_ look in particular often hid his master’s deep well of anger. For him. “I hope you did, because you won’t like what I have in store for you once we get back to base.”

Ezra cringed at Kanan’s tone. Well, he had anticipated some … disapproval and disappointment for his choices while they’d been split up. But the last time Kanan had used that tone on him had been a few years ago when Ezra had slacked off while on mission and had almost gotten himself killed in the process. Ezra hadn’t left base for a month after while Kanan had … reinforced situational awareness and focus. He could only imagine what Kanan had in store for him this time.

“So, uh, I guess we’re going to talk about it now?”

“You think?”

With an agitated sigh, Kanan lean back in his seat, and Ezra watched curiously as his master adjusted it. Now that he thought about it, when they’d taken off Kanan had had to fiddle around with the seat’s placement too, as if his chair had been moved out of position.

Now, why would that be? The words were out of his mouth in an instant.

“Did you let Hera fly you around?”

“No.”

Ezra narrowed his eyes and almost called his master a liar to his face, but realized that probably wasn’t a smart move. He wanted to though. Kanan never let Ezra fly the  _Kasmiri_.

Why would he let Hera?

In retaliation to the lie, he stared at Kanan. It was a tried and true tactic he knew drove Kanan up the wall. Forced him to respond. Mouthy Ezra meant Ezra didn’t have anything important on his mind. Intentionally Silent Ezra was a whole other story, and a version of him he knew Kanan didn’t like.

Ezra let the silence fester.

It was hard to keep his face blank when finally, Kanan’s gruff voice broke it.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

With a kick Kanan turned his chair so he was facing Ezra directly, and the abrupt sight of his master like this almost made him flinch. Kanan was clearly disappointed, and worse, Ezra could feel the low thrum of anger seep like deadly gas past Kanan’s usually durasteel-clad Force control.

Maybe now _really_ wasn’t the best time to press his master.

Ezra sighed and looked away, and Kanan’s anger cooled. He might as well have this out sooner rather than later, and right now Ezra was lucky. Kanan hadn’t come with the scythe for the meet up, and while it could mean a lot of things, at the very least it meant he wouldn’t be as volatile. Experience told him that if he was going to have this conversation, it was better that Kanan was without the scythe than with it.

“I’m not sorry that I revealed myself and my abilities to save the others,” Ezra said softly as he rested his forearms along the armrests, gripping the ends of them as if to ground himself. “We didn’t know about the Inquisitor, otherwise I would have told you. But she was there, and they were in trouble.” Ezra lifted his eyes to catch Kanan’s. “Master, I wasn’t going to let that Inquisitor kill them. Not when I could do something about it. It was the right thing to do.”

“You should have told me anyway. I would have come,” Kanan countered, and Ezra focused his attention on the gravity of Kanan’s tone as if testing waters. His master was agitated, sure, but he was still in control.

“But what would have happened if you hadn’t made it in time? We couldn’t wait and, the way I see it, even if you had made it we’d still have had to deal with the Inquisitor.” Ezra’s voice quieted. “She was there to interrogate those sympathizers. You know they wouldn’t have survived.”

“Even so, I would have been the one to fight her. Not you,” Kanan frowned deeply. “Ezra, everyone knows now. That’s not something you can take back.”

“I know. But Kanan, I didn’t go there hoping to use the Force. Before the Inquisitor showed up, no one even knew I was there. They saw Rosie, sure, and maybe that was a giveaway, but I exhausted every other means before I had to resort to the Force.” Ezra took a breath before saying the last thing he was sure Kanan wanted to hear. “But I don’t regret it.”

Kanan said nothing, though it was clear to Ezra by the thinning of his lips that he wanted to. When it came to Ezra, Ezra knew his master was constantly at war with keeping him safe and teaching him how to be a proper Jedi. Kanan couldn’t completely preach one without condemning the other, and Ezra wouldn’t make him.

Instead he said, “You know, Kanan. It wasn’t bad, working with Sabine and the others. If it weren’t for them I wouldn’t have made it away. And on top of that, I learned a lot from them. They’re good people just wanting to do good for the galaxy. They want us to help.”

“Yes, but you do realize those good people put you in a situation that destroyed all the work we’ve put into keeping your secrets secret these last nine years, right?” Kanan leaned forward in his seat, his face serious. “Ezra, you deviated from the Rider’s usual behavior, and you did it in a very noticeable way. The Empire was already looking for me. Them finding out about my Force abilities might not have been surprising to anyone. But you? You surprised them. Proxy’s been collecting every Imperial report he can find, and there’s a greater emphasis on you and your capture than mine. You can’t hide now.”

Ezra stared at his master as he remembered the Inquisitor’s comment about how surprising it was that he was a Force user too. That they hadn’t expected to find a Master and Padawan, and Ezra wasn’t stupid. He’d heard stories. Stories of Force-sensitive children taken so they could be raised by the dark side. He’d almost been one of those stories, if not for Kanan.

Though the Empire would be looking for the both of them, they’d likely want Ezra more since they’d think his potential to embrace the dark side would be greater, even if it wasn’t true. But he could see Kanan’s point, and a familiar cold chill sat in the pit of his stomach. It had ever since he’d revealed himself. He couldn’t hide anymore, not as the Rider.

But as uneasy a feeling as that was, was it really a bad thing?

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Since there’s no more hiding for either of us, we can do more as Force users. We could use our skills instead of hiding them, do more good. And Kanan, I _want_ to use them.” Ezra’s hands went damp as he said another thing he knew his master did not want to hear, but he felt it was important to say all the same. “I want to fight with the rebellion and with Hera’s crew. What they’re doing, it’s a good thing. The right thing, and I’ve seen it firsthand. What’s wrong with being a part of that?”

“Ezra,” Kanan said with a touch of annoyance. “Exposing ourselves like we have paints bigger targets on us. We only used to have to deal with the Empire and an occasional bounty hunter, but now? Inquisitors, Ezra. Darksiders trained to hunt and kill any Force user that doesn’t go dark. You know they will hound us until they find us. It might not have been too bad if it had been you as Ezra Bridger who’d revealed himself, since no one believes you still exist. But you went as the Rider, a high-value target and the Reaper’s partner, and you were seen aiding a rebel cell.” Kanan’s blind eyes held his before he sighed. “You might be fine with that, Ezra, but the Rider has painted a target on the backs of Hera’s crew now too. The Empire will be looking for them to get to you.”

The cool pit in his stomach shifted to solid ice with dread, and Ezra couldn’t help the way his eyes widened because … Kanan was right. He’d been too caught up in the good he’d finally managed to do as a Jedi that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. How his actions might affect Sabine, Zeb, and Chopper hadn’t even occurred to him.

His face fell, and he grimaced in earnest worry.

“Kanan, I was just trying to help.”

Though he was sure Kanan wanted to keep scolding him, instead Kanan sighed again and there was understanding on his tired face. “I know you were, Ezra. I can feel it. It’s what I’ve been training you for. I can’t be too hard on you for behaving as you did.”

“But you’re right. I’ve put them in danger.” All he could think now was that Sabine and Zeb were at risk. They couldn’t handle Inquisitors, not like he and Kanan could. What had he done?

“If they’re anything like Hera, they’re a scrappy bunch. Hopefully they’ll think to watch their backs. For now, I’m more worried about you. About us.”

“But Kanan, you can’t just expect me to abandon them when something I did might get them killed!” The first chance he got, he was going to contact Sabine and let her and the rest of the crew know to keep a lookout. But there had to be more he could do than that. More that they could do. “We should do something to help them.”

“Ezra,” Kanan cut in sharply, “my concern right now is you. To keep you alive, and keep you safe. I made a promise to your mother and I’m keeping it. Like it or not, Hera and her crew won’t make that easier.”

“You don’t know that,” Ezra argued. “Like I said. If it wasn’t for them, I might have been captured by that Inquisitor. They kept me safe.”  He ignored the point about his mother and pressed on. “Protecting them is the least we can do, Kanan. You’re always telling me not to run from my mistakes or my problems. To face them. Well, I’ve made a mistake and I want to face it.”

“A mistake you were coerced into,” Kanan pointed out, and Ezra’s brow furrowed into a glare.

“I wasn’t coerced, Kanan. They got a mission from a contact of theirs, and that contact asked me to help. But it was just that. An offer. An offer I took.”

Kanan scowled. “Sometimes all it takes to be drawn into something is an offer, Ezra. You accepted once. What’s to stop you from accepting again? Especially since you’ve bonded with that crew?”

“I haven’t—”

“You have,” Kanan said as if he’d made a grave mistake. Ezra continued to glare because it would have been one thing to condemn him if Ezra had been the only one to make the mistake.

But he hadn’t been.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one,” Ezra countered. “No one else might have noticed, but I know you. You were soft on Hera. You listened to her.” Ezra knew better than anyone how stubborn Kanan was. But with a touch, Hera had stopped them from leaving the first time, and then had convinced Kanan to come into the  _Ghost_ with her. No one did that to Kanan, not when he had the Reaper’s helmet on.

But she had.

Ezra searched Kanan’s face for any indication that he’d gotten under his skin, but Kanan’s face was well-schooled. Even without any physical indication, Ezra knew he wasn’t wrong.

“It’s nothing, Apprentice. We had to work together while you were gone. That’s all it was.”

Ezra scoffed.

“That’s all it was? Are you telling me that you didn’t enjoy your time with Hera?” Ezra questioned. “Your control isn’t as good as it usually is. I felt it in the Force, Kanan. You liked her.”

“What I liked or didn’t like about the mess we’re in right now doesn’t matter,” Kanan said stoically as he turned again to face the viewport. “What matters now is laying low. We need to move our base. Cover our tracks. We can’t let the Empire find us. If you want a way to help protect them, that’s a way.”

Ezra’s face crumpled with confusion. “Move base? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?” He’d expected that they’d be inactive for a while, but move base? Leave their home? Why would they do that?

“It’s not,” Kanan replied, and then he did something Ezra had never seen him do before. It was a small moment, subtle, but it stood out like a supernova to him.

His master shifted uneasily.

“Hera knows where it is. So, we need to leave.”

Ezra’s eyes widened with disbelief. He thought his jaw even dropped too.

“You took her to our base?” Ezra gaped. “You never take  _anyone_  to our base.”

“Which is why we need to move it,” Kanan replied. “Since she knows, the Empire has a way of finding us if they catch her.”

Ezra was still dumbfounded, but not enough not to notice the hypocritical flaw in his master’s argument.

“Wait a minute. You’re getting all over me for painting a target on her crew’s back when you gave her pivotal information about us? Information the Empire would _kill_ for? How is it that you haven’t done the exact same thing I did, to her?”

“I hadn’t meant for her to find out!” Kanan suddenly snapped. “She was never supposed to realize we were on Lothal. She wasn’t supposed to find out anything.”

“Then how did she?” Ezra pressed. “And while we’re on it, what happened to her neck?” He knew, but this was Kanan’s chance to convince him otherwise. There was no way he could be right. Kanan wouldn’t have let Hera anywhere near his scythe. No way.

The thin line of Kanan’s lips told Ezra everything. Ezra slumped in his seat and silence built between them like a wall.

“I can’t believe she’s not dead,” he muttered.

“I caught it in time,” Kanan said tightly. “It happened early in the week. It’s been in the ceiling ever since.”

Ezra mentally replayed the gathering they’d just come from, and tried to recall the interactions he’d witnessed between Kanan and Hera. It had been strangely unified, almost friendly, and Kanan had listened to her. But more than that, though Ezra could remember feeling caution from Hera a time or two, what he’d felt more of was a strange form of trust. Understanding. He’d have thought after being attacked by the scythe like she apparently had, she’d have been suspicious and wary.

He eyed his master suspiciously. “Did something happen between you and Hera while you were together?”

To his surprise, Kanan responded with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Any sane person should’ve been happy to get away from you,” Ezra reasoned. “But it seemed like she was reluctant. And you two had rapport. The only one you have rapport with is Maz.”

“That’s not true. Maybe I’m just a really great guy to get along with.”

Again, he scoffed. “She doesn’t strike me as insane,” Ezra mused. “Hera shouldn’t have behaved like that. You shouldn’t have behaved like you did.”

Though he was fishing, it was clear Kanan wasn’t going to bite, and all Ezra could do was put his questions away for the time being. Maybe Proxy knew more?

Or maybe there was another way he could find out?

Ezra let that particular topic go for now. This new one took precedence. “Well, whatever the reason, you’ve also put a target on her too. We should meet up with them again, maybe work with them for a while just to make sure that the Empire isn’t hunting them, and help them if they are. It would also give us a chance to see if they’re trustworthy and can keep our secret so we might not have to move. They’re kinda rough to work with, but I actually think that’s what makes them so effective. Consider it, Master.”

“It’s considered,” Kanan said, eyes hard. “The answer is still no.”

Ezra traced Kanan with his eyes before proceeding slowly. “Fine. Then I have a question. Do you remember what you told me before that botched mission on Garel?”

Ezra kept his eyes on Kanan and waited. He wasn’t at all surprised when Kanan played dumb. “That you needed to keep your emotions in check.”

“You know what I’m talking about. You said that after the mission I’d get to pick the next one.”

“Are we ignoring the fact that it was only in the event that the mission was successful?” Kanan said with a lifted eyebrow. “Besides, you had a mission with your new friends. There you go.”

Ezra crossed his arms and turned the stubborn nature he’d learned from Kanan back on him.

“Are you going back on your word, Master? Is it meaningless now?” If there was one thing he knew Kanan had a thing about, it was sticking to his promises. Even small ones meant something to his master. Kanan’s face tightened unpleasantly, but the slow exhale he gave Ezra told him he’d won that round.

“Fine,” Kanan said slowly, and Ezra made a mental note to pay attention to any future deals he brokered with Kanan. He’d be on the lookout to stop any loopholes now. “What do you want to do? But whatever it is, we are  _not_  using Rosie.”

“I wasn’t thinking about including Rosie. That mission with Hera’s crew was hard on her. She deserves a break. I had something else in mind.” Ezra licked his lips and tried not to let his hope show through his Force stealth. “I want to go on a milk run.”

Kanan stared at him as if he was waiting for Ezra to tell him he was joking.

Ezra stared back.

“A milk run.”

“Yes. Like picking up supplies and shipping them. Distributing them. Real simple,” Ezra explained and Kanan scoffed.

“I know what a milk run _is_ , Ezra. I’d have thought you’d want to do something more complicated. That’s what you’re usually hassling me about.” Kanan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What sort of milk run do you have in mind?”

Ezra’s lips quirked up.

“Ask Hera. I can help get you in contact with her. I’m sure she’ll have the mission details by now.” Before they’d met up with Kanan and Hera, Sabine had told him about a mission she was planning on telling Hera about. A milk run. The crew got a lot of those types of missions, apparently, so he was confident that even if Kanan tried to wiggle out of this one, another opportunity would present itself in the future.

Kanan’s scowl was intense. “No.”

“You said it yourself, Kanan. I’d get to pick. This is what I pick.”

In response Kanan shoved out of the pilot’s seat and began pacing the length of the  _Kasmiri_ as if to get away from Ezra. “I said  _no_.”

“So you are going back on your word?” Ezra followed him doggedly. “Kanan, the  _Ghost_  crew and the rebellion, they’re doing good things for the people of the galaxy. There are people who could benefit from our help. If the Empire might be after them, we owe it to them to make sure. We do this one mission, we check in just to be sure they’ll be okay, we help a few people who need it, we leave. That’s it.”

“They’re already benefiting from us, Ezra. We take down the Empire’s leadership. It leaves a power gap which the rebellion can exploit.”

“You know what we do isn’t enough!” Ezra shouted as he latched onto Kanan’s arm and tugged him to a stop. “You said it yourself! If we can catch a vice admiral, we’re lucky. But Kanan, they aren’t the ones making the big decisions. If we actually wanted to make a difference by taking out Imperial leadership, we’d take out admirals, grand admirals, or Moff’s even. They’re the ones we should be focusing on, if that’s how we’re helping.”

“That takes time and careful planning,” Kanan growled. “We get who we can. That’s what matters. Something is better than nothing until we can get better targets.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s enough,” Ezra said firmly. “Besides, neither the Reaper or the Rider can do much right now. We were tracking Imperial reports too on the  _Ghost_. The Inquisitors are looking for both of us, and they’ll be on the lookout for any sign. We might as well do something else and lay low for a while before we get back to work.”

“The Reaper and Rider can’t just show up for a milk run, Ezra. It’ll make it even worse for Hera and her crew, and for us. It would be a clear allegiance!”

“Then obviously, we don’t go as the Rider or Reaper,” Ezra replied evenly. “Everyone’s looking for them, so they won’t think to look for Kanan Jarrus or Ezra Bridger. They don’t even know we exist.”

“For good reason! That’s how we’ve kept safe all this time. Now you just want to tell everyone who we are?”

“Not everyone, Master,” Ezra said. “Just the  _Ghost_ crew. They’re trustworthy, Kanan. I know you don’t believe it, but I’m your apprentice. Believe me.”

Hot anger licked out of Kanan’s Force aura, heating the air, and Ezra watched as his master slowly dipped his hand into a pocket and withdrew a comlink. Ezra stared. Hera must have given it to him. He was shocked Kanan still had it.

“If I crush this, we’ll never be in touch with them again.”

They would, actually. Sabine had given Ezra a comlink too, but his master didn’t know that, and that wasn’t the point. He glared at Kanan.

“Then do it already and break your word.”

The standoff lasted a long moment, and as it drew longer, Ezra started to wonder if, in this, Kanan  _would_  break it. Ezra watched as Kanan’s fingers began to bleach white as he gripped the comlink tighter. It creaked, and Ezra’s heart began to freeze.

But then those fingers slowly relaxed, and Kanan’s blind eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I am your master, and I won’t break my word. I will call her. We will do this milk run of yours. Then we will be done and I will not hear another word about them from you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ezra swallowed, but the ice that had almost threatened to consume his heart evaporated in an instant, and he nodded quickly.

“Crystal, Master.”

Kanan turned away from him and went back to the pilot’s seat as he shoved the comlink back into his pocket. Ezra let out the breath he’d been holding in his chest before he also made his way back to his seat.

If the atmosphere wasn’t so tense, Ezra might have smiled in triumph, but Kanan would see and he didn’t want to push his luck. But deep down, hopefully so far beneath his Force stealth that Kanan couldn’t pick it up, he was excited. And though part of it was because he wanted to see Sabine and the others again, more of his excitement was for an entirely different reason.

Kanan was actually going to do it. He was going to contact Hera so they’d meet up again.

From Kanan’s own mouth, he’d told Ezra that accepting an offer once opened the door to doing it again. This was just a milk run, a tiny little thing. But his master had just accepted to do it, and with Hera’s crew.

He’d accepted when Ezra was almost certain he wouldn’t. And that had to mean something.

Something, Ezra hoped, that was good.

* * *

 

Hera groaned in relief as she settled in her proper seat, enjoying the way it all but curled around her form in welcome before letting her hands curl around the controls of the  _Ghost_. The  _Kasmiri_  and the  _Escape_  were both fine rides, but nothing matched her ship. Eagerly, she lifted the  _Ghost_  from its stationary position on the grassy field just as Sabine and Zeb strode into the cockpit.

“I see you’re happy to be back,” Zeb said with a grin as he leaned against the back of Hera’s seat. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It’s good to be back,” Hera agreed. “You all seemed to get along well enough without me though. Ezra didn’t give you any trouble?”

“All in all? Nah. The kid wasn’t so bad. I  _am_  glad it’s just us again,” Zeb replied. “But watching him go off with the Reaper was … I don’t know. It’s hard to believe someone so young is that skilled, and working with someone like that. Makes me wonder what the Reaper’s like. Hard to believe he’s a Jedi too.”

Hera kept her eyes on the growing darkness of space before them, tapping in coordinates for their jump to lightspeed. But as she did, she couldn’t help but think about Ezra too. The enigmatic Rider. She’d recognized his face from when Proxy had taken his shape during that … that morning when she’d touched Kanan’s scythe. But the exaggerated limb lengths had left only a caricature of what the Rider looked like.

But seeing a teenager, a boy younger than Sabine — Hera was sure — she’d been beyond surprised. Hera had assumed he’d be someone much older, but a kid was the last thing she’d expected.

It explained some things and, in some ways, she could understand why Kanan had reacted the way he had after the gala. She’d thought it was just because his partner had revealed he was a Force user, but maybe it was actually because of a simpler reason? An understandable one, even. Maybe Kanan was just scared, just like any parental figure would have been if they saw their son — _was_ Ezra his son? — fighting an Imperial trained to hunt him down.

Still, as protective as it seemed Kanan was, it was clear he’d also trained the boy to become the Rider. Had he turned the boy into a fighter through an effort to help him survive? Or did Ezra also have a bone to pick with the Empire, as young as he was? And why would Kanan let him?

“I know. And chances are the Reaper has his reasons,” Hera muttered, and the enjoyment she found in the pilot’s seat gave way to the weight of everything she’d come to know about Kanan. “Force, he’s got so many reasons.”

“Sounds like you really got to know the Reaper while you were stuck with him,” Sabine said with a lilt of her voice.

“Not as much as you might think. That man isn’t easy to crack. But it seemed like you got to know Ezra pretty well.”

“As well as you can after a couple of days together,” agreed Sabine with a shrug. “But, then again, we didn’t know him beforehand.”

The pointed tone in the Mandalorian’s voice was unmistakable, and above her Zeb shifted. Hera caught the confused look he was giving both Sabine and herself before realization lit his green eyes.

“Wait a minute. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

“I don’t know. Am I, Hera?” Sabine asked, and Hera side-eyed her. Now Zeb was staring at her too.

“You already knew the Reaper?” he said in disbelief. “You knew him before all of this?”

“You did, didn’t you?” Sabine compounded. The Mandalorian’s voice was sure.  “You never seemed surprised by him when we saw him. You were never surprised by anything he did either.” Hera saw no point in trying to hide the truth now.

“Yes, I knew the Reaper,” Hera admitted as she urged the  _Ghost_  into lightspeed just like Kanan had a short while ago. “We met years ago on Gorse.”

“That’s why you wanted us to check Gorse first when we started searching for them,” Sabine reasoned. “Did you know he was a Force user too?”

Hera looked at the girl. “I did.”

“I’d call that pivotal information, wouldn’t you Hera?” Sabine pressed, and even Zeb gave her a face that told her he was on the Mandalorian’s side on this one. Hera wondered if Ezra was giving Kanan as hard a time as her crew was. “What about Ezra? Did you know about him too?”

Now that they were settled in hyperspace, she turned in her seat to face them. “No. I didn’t know anything about him. Only the Reaper.”

“If you knew each other, why didn’t the Reaper just talk to you?” Zeb asked. “You saw him on Kessel, right? Surely he knew who you were.”

“He did,” Hera admitted. “We didn’t leave on awful terms, but he had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the rebellion back then. Apparently that still holds true, which is why he didn’t speak with me. Says he’s not interested.”

“Well, he could have just told us that and been done with it. We wouldn’t have had to run around like blind fools and gotten into this nonsense if he’d just said no at the beginning.” Zeb shook his head, and Hera was particularly vigilant not to give anything away at the word ‘blind’. Zeb’s face softened as he looked at Hera. “You sure you’re all right? You and that mad man alone for a week … I know you can take care of yourself, but I was worried.”

“Thanks Zeb. I’m fine.” She gave him a soft smile. “We actually went out dancing, believe it or not.”

Zeb’s gruff laugh rolled through the air before he straightened and made his way out of the cockpit. “That’s a laugh. Bet he’s absolutely light on his feet.”

The Lasat was still laughing before it transformed into a sharp yowl of pain as Chopper’s distinctive mechanical laugh followed. That was soon replaced by the revving of his rotors and the disgruntled drone of AP-5 as Chopper rushed past in an effort to escape Zeb.

The door slipped shut and Hera grinned. She’d missed this, the loud antics and chaotic activity of her ship and crew after all the peace and quiet. She’d missed them more than she’d realized after only a week. Reclining back into her seat, she waited for Sabine to say something, and she wasn’t disappointed when the girl finally spoke her mind.

“I think Ezra wants to join the rebellion,” Sabine said as she took the copilot’s seat. “You should have seen him, Hera. He’s very skilled, and he didn’t hesitate at all to come help us when we needed him. I’m not sure what other sort of work he and the Reaper do together, he wouldn’t tell me, but it seemed like that was the first time he was personally invested in a rescue mission.” The Mandalorian cast her intelligent brown eyes at Hera. “I think that was the first time he’s ever been on mission with anyone other than the Reaper.”

Hera frowned, watching the colors of lightspeed streak and blur as she thought.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Hera admitted. “Ka — The Reaper seems to be very protective of Ezra.”

Sabine stared at her, and Hera knew that shine of intellect.

“You know his name, don’t you? His real name.”

Hera didn’t respond. She knew from experience that it was answer enough for her genius.

“You _do_.” Sabine’s stare turned curious. “Did you see his face?”

“Does it matter?”

Sabine’s eyebrow twitched up and Hera waited for her to dig, but the girl surprised her when she didn’t. Instead she asked, “What do you think will happen now?”

“I don’t know,” Hera said honestly. “Hopefully Ezra says something to the Reaper, something that will change his mind. I gave the Reaper a comlink to keep in touch, but I have no idea if he’ll use it.”

“If he doesn’t, I think Ezra will. I gave him a comlink too, just in case.”

“That’s my girl,” Hera said with a smile as she yawned, the long, restless night catching up with her now that she was home. “Until we hear from them, I guess we’ll get back to what we usually do. I haven’t exactly been looking for work, so it might be a little while before I can pull something together.”

“I’ve got something. It’s a milk run that I told Ezra about before he left,” Sabine said, but then she smirked in amusement as Hera tried to hide a second yawn. “You should get some rest, Hera. I don’t know what you and the Reaper were really up to while you were gone, but you look tired. I’ll keep an eye on things while you sleep.”

Giving her genius a thankful look, Hera exited the cockpit and entered her cabin. The quiet hum of the  _Ghost_  surrounded her, and it was hard to believe that not long ago Kanan had been in here too. She could still feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. It had been a hard thing to tell him no, this time.

Tired as she was though, she wanted to spend a little more time thinking, and Hera swept up the smooth crystal Kanan had found earlier. After climbing into her bunk, she stared at the ceiling and let her fingers slide over the smooth surface as she’d done for years now. She wondered what would happen next. She wondered if, by some miracle, Kanan would prove himself wrong and get in contact with her again.

Hera kept her comlink nearby, just in case, and closed her eyes.

* * *

 

Kanan watched as Ezra left for his room after greeting Proxy, who reported there was, thankfully, no news to report. Everything was back exactly as it should be, here in the temple barracks, and the silence that surrounded him felt familiar and right.

Well, almost right.

He did his best to ignore the fact that a certain unforgettable presence was gone, taking with her all the hopes she’d tried to entice him with of a better future and a different life. One he could be a part of. Help build. In his pocket he held the comlink she’d given him, tracing its outline with his thumb before sighing heavily at himself.

Hera had only been here a week and she’d gotten so far under his skin. Now he had to see her one more time because of a stupid deal he’d been foolish enough to make with Ezra. But it would just be one more time, and that’s it. They’d do the mission and he’d tell Hera to keep an eye out for the Empire, just in case. Then they’d leave, everything would cool down with the Empire, he and Ezra would go back to doing what they did best, and ….

And he’d never see her again. That was the way it had to be. None of whatever had happened in the past week would matter. It hadn’t meant anything. None of what might happen during the next mission would matter either.

Even knowing that, Kanan still somehow felt like a liar.

Again he sighed at himself, but this time at his own foolishness. He pulled the hand away from Hera’s comlink and, clearing his mind of the beautiful Twi’lek and the call he’d be making later, he lifted it up in the air. He barely needed to focus to find his scythe where it had been buried for days now, surly and insistent. He’d felt it almost the moment they’d arrived, nudging at his mind like a needy loth-cat, as if it already knew the Twi’lek woman that had enabled its temporary banishment had not returned.

Kanan suspected it did know, and he wasn’t pleased about it.

Once Kanan had a solid hold on it in the Force, he jerked the weapon out of its sheath. The slide of metal against metal was like an uncomfortable seduction to his mind. Unwilling to engage it quite yet, he let gravity sink its fingers into the scythe and it fell soundlessly into the air, its top tipping back with the weight. Before it could strike the ground however, Kanan reached out with perfect precision and caught it. Using its naturally built momentum, he twisted it into wicked arcs about his body as he bled off its built-up energy and slowed it down.

It all but purred in his palm, but Kanan refused to acknowledge it. He refused to acknowledge the uncomfortable heat that seeped out from it. Refused to acknowledge how much he had craved its touch all week, and what it would soon do for him. Before he could think too deeply about it, he jerked the weapon and it collapsed down into its smaller, more manageable form, and Kanan left for his room.

He steadied his heart with resolute discipline as he passed the room that smelled floral and like maintenance oil. He hoped the scent would fade soon. As he passed Ezra’s room, he was thankful to find it empty, his ward likely in the baths. He didn’t want to deal with the looks Ezra would give him when he realized what Kanan was intent on doing, even after what had happened to Hera.

Still, a tiny part of his heart released when he shut his door behind him, ensuring his privacy. Natural darkness flooded his senses, causing the impressions of the world in the Force to change in intensity as they usually did when he perceived light and shadow. Everything gentled, and it was always a private relief. Here he did not need the light everyone else needed. There was no point of it, not when he was free to be so uniquely blind. Everything in this room was shrouded and had been for years.

In this darkness, only he could see everything.

Kanan’s room was as sparse as the other rooms in the hall, excepting Ezra’s — that kid was a packrat intent on squirreling away whatever amused him, which amused Kanan in its own way. He had a simple bed. A dresser and desk and chair. A meditation mat. But he also had a shelf too, one he’d installed himself. It hung chest level, and the items on it were as orderly and clean as they always were. Untouched, just as he’d left them.

The relics of his past.

Kanan stared at the shelf with its collection of objects that hadn’t seen the light of … well, anything in years. Lightsabers, holocron, mask and helmets, carving. He traced all of them with his Force sense like he always did when he was bothered, even as his scythe thrummed warm beneath his fingers. Which would his mind be drawn to this time?

He didn’t give himself a chance to find out. Instead he turned his back on them all and sat on the mat in the center of his floor, the scythe laying across his lap. With it there, he studied it. Industrial. Functional. Powerful.

Slowly, heat rose and rolled around him, cloying and oppressive like hot, humid fingers grabbing at his mind. He narrowed his eyes at the metal and focused. Immediately the heat began to ebb away, thinning until it resumed its quiet thrum at its core. Obedient for now, and waiting.

Kanan hated it, but it was the only method he’d found over the long years that worked.

So, despite how much he hated the blasted weapon, he took a deep breath and closed his physical eyes; limited his Force sight to the dark, undisturbed room around him. When he was ready, he began thinking about all the problems of the past week, the anger, the shock, the annoyance, the disappointment. After he felt as if he had it all collected in a pit within his heart, when it had coalesced into something uncomfortable in his chest, he focused again and began funneling it into the scythe.

The weapon reacted, drinking it in hungrily, eagerly, and the relief it left behind was instant. His mind began regaining its crystal focus. The weight in his heart eased. He breathed and felt as if he were being cleaned out. Able to think clearly again without the press of his darker emotions to cloud his mind and influence his actions. As the minutes grew long and the meditation deepened, Kanan continued to focus on the relief in his soul as the anger slipped away.

Not on the satisfied thrum in his scythe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess Kanan’s not done with Hera and the crew after all, huh? Force bless Ezra.
> 
> I’m aiming for a post this Friday, but pending real life there is a possibility that I’m not going to be able to make it. If that’s the case it’ll go up next week. I usually post something on [my tumblr](http://okadiah.tumblr.com/) by Thursday if there is going to be a delay.
> 
> Anyway there’s a milk run coming up now, and who thinks it’s time that Hera and Ezra finally had a real conversation?


	18. Milk Run - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I lied. No mom-son, errr ... I mean Hera-Ezra conversation this chapter. But don't worry. That's coming in the next part, and that should be posted on Sunday. In the meantime, enjoy!

From within the safety of the now landed  _Kasmiri_ , Kanan strapped his pauldron on in the slowest manner possible. Once that was completed, he retightened his boots even slower than that.

“You know, dragging your heels isn’t going to stop this from happening, Master. We’re already here, they’re waiting outside, and I doubt the others will start without us no matter how long you take.”

“Contrary to what you might think, apprentice, I am not dragging my feet.” He lifted a foot to make his point. “See? Lifted. Not dragged.”

Ezra rolled his eyes from where he stood over him, waiting and clearly eager to get going. Kanan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Ezra this eager about anything, except maybe for a rare opportunity to visit Maz. It was even rarer to see him almost dressed up for it. Though he was in one of his loth-rat outfits, it was one of the nicer, better cared for ones, like he’d chosen it to give a good impression. Even Proxy, who had come along too, seemed as ready as his apprentice to disembark, given that he was already waiting patiently to lower the ramp.

And try as he might, Kanan was starting to run out of excuses to take up more time. He did not want to go. Never again would be make such an offer to Ezra. Lesson learned.

Though he had to admit, it had been a clever tactic.

“You’re stalling,” Ezra accused. “I’ve seen you run around the temple faster than you’re fixing your boots right now.”

“Maybe I want to look as presentable as you do?” Kanan replied, turning it back on his apprentice. “I think you even got your hair cut.”

“I did not.” Ezra rolled his eyes. “Hold up your end of the deal, Kanan. It’s only one mission. You’ll live.”

Kanan glared at Ezra before giving a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Fine. Let me put on my eyes, and I’ll be ready to go.” Kanan reached for the small sack that held his tiny holoprojectors so he could attach them to hide his scars and blind eyes, but realized his mistake the moment his fingers brushed them. In Ezra’s rush to leave earlier, he’d forgotten what had happened to them while he’d been gone. “Damn it.”

Ezra hitched an eyebrow and Kanan tossed the busted holoprojector bud at the boy. “I forgot I broke it while you were gone.”

Ezra examined the bud, turning it over between his fingers before looking up again with an odd mixture of curiosity and excitement on his face. “You broke it?”

“Unfortunately it was what was in my hand when I got news you had fought that Inquisitor.”

“Honestly, I was surprised the entire room was still intact.” Ezra tossed the bud back at him. “Guess you can’t use those now.” The boy grinned, and Kanan now realized why his apprentice looked so excited. “Looks like you’re just going to have to make do without them, huh?”

Kanan glowered again. “I’m still in the pilot’s seat. Nothing stopping me from leaving.”

Kanan was pleased when the excitement in Ezra’s face dropped in favor of a glare. Rolling his eyes, Ezra vanishing into the  _Kasmiri’s_  cabin quarters before returning a moment later with something in his hand.

“Here. I know you always keep them around just in case.”

What pleasure Kanan had found at ruining Ezra’s excitement evaporated. He frowned at his apprentice’s alternative, disappointed Ezra hadn’t forgotten, and ran his fingers over the opaque glareshades as he took them. They were wide and hid both his eyes and his scars while also suggesting he could see through them. He didn’t use them all that often, but since his usual method needed repairs, this acted as an … effective alternative.

“Thanks.” Kanan said, even though he didn’t mean it, and he reluctantly placed it on the bridge of his nose. Ezra smiled.

“No problem. Just taking care of my master. Now come on.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kanan grunted as he holstered a blaster and pulled his traveler’s cloak over his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ezra and Proxy had already activated the ramp, oblivious to his surly comment, and Kanan let his senses expand. They were there all right, Hera and her crew, waiting in a small group for them like an unwelcome welcoming party. Kanan contemplated just how bad it would be if he left Ezra here and came back later after it was over. But he’d made the deal and he wouldn’t go back on his word, and so he took the first of many reluctant steps out of the  _Kasmiri_  and into the bright afternoon light.

They were on a small, grassland covered moon near a beat-up looking village, and the bright sun above sunk through his cloak and clothes to fight off the chill in the air. The light fell on the exposed parts of his face as if to soothe the skin there and welcome him to this place.

Though it warmed his flesh, he did not feel soothed or welcomed. Dressed as he was, without his Reaper’s uniform, without his helmet and scythe in front of people who had actively — and successfully — searched for him, made him feel naked and vulnerable. The only part of him that felt protected were his eyes, though the glareshades felt small and flimsy under the brunt of the curious gazes that traced him as he drew near.

Though the barrier it provided between him and Hera’s brightened gaze was, he quietly admitted to himself, unwanted.

He schooled his face and emotions as he remembered who he was and that he wasn’t supposed to  _want_  to see Hera. He wasn’t going to be weak again. They would be leaving after this. The fact that he was here, doing this mission with them still didn’t mean anything.

Kanan’s heartbeat quickened when the Twi’lek stepped forward with a smile.

“I’m glad you came off the ship. I was starting to worry.”

“I’m here, and I’m here to work,” he managed to say without letting his lips twitch up. “What are we doing?”

“Well, I think introductions are in order first, don’t you, Master?” Ezra said pointedly. Kanan wished the glareshades didn’t hide the full intensity of his glare. As it was, Ezra didn’t so much as flinch in response, and Kanan’s jaw tightened. Unfortunately, there was reason in Ezra’s logic. Hera’s crew needed to call him something besides his codename, and though it was tempting to lie, he half-suspected Ezra would call him out anyway if he tried.

And that was saying nothing of Hera.

“Call me Kanan,” he managed to grit out. Both Ezra and Hera looked quietly pleased and mildly impressed. He didn’t know which bothered him more.

“And I’m Proxy,” Proxy said pleasantly as he addressed the crew before them. “It’s nice to see you again, Hera.”

“Hi Proxy. It’s good to see you too.” Kanan didn’t miss the way Hera’s relief shifted in the Force as she saw Proxy. He wondered if she’d suspected he had considered sending Proxy in his place — which, admittedly, he almost had. The only reason he hadn’t was because he’d never be able to pull that off with Ezra, and he suspected that even if he had, Hera would have known.

“So you’re him,” Zeb said, giving him a slow once over as if judging him for threats. “Not what I expected.”

“Give me a reason to show you otherwise,” Kanan quipped and Ezra gave him a sidelong glare.

“Master. We’re here to help, remember?”

Kanan didn’t say anything. Not a minute in, and he was sure this was a mistake. Before an awkward silence could develop, Proxy addressed Hera again.

“How can I be of assistance, Hera?” the droid asked. “It’s my understanding we’re delivering supplies.”

“Yes, and handing them out,” the Twi’lek replied before motioning for everyone to follow her the short distance to the  _Ghost_ , which was waiting near the edge of the village. Ezra immediately caught up with the Lasat and Mandalorian who both gave him a welcoming grin, and as he moved toward Hera he watched as Proxy became flanked by Hera’s droids.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m AP-5,” AP-5 explained before he gestured to Chopper. “I’d ignore him if I were you.  He’ll do his best to drag you into his madness and make your life miserable. Best stick with me.”

Chopper waved his small mechanical arms around, the squat droid chittering in binary rapidly at Proxy as he also introduced itself. The astromech then tried to convince the holodroid that, in fact, it was AP-5 who would make him miserable with his boring attention to detail, and that Proxy should actually stick with him instead. Proxy looked between the both of them as if trying to determine who to believe.

Kanan snorted quietly and decided that was something he wanted nothing to do with. He finally matched pace with Hera and she cast him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Nice shades.”

“As you know, my usual alternative is broken. No pretty blue eyes today.”

Hera shrugged. “You know, I think I like your real eyes better than those pretty blues.”

“I’m sure,” he said sarcastically. “Because they’re so attractive. I know.”

“Because they’re honest,” she corrected, and Kanan blinked because he didn’t know what to say to that. “By the way, thanks for coming. And thanks for agreeing to leave your usual gear and armor back at your base for this. I have to say, you look better without all that black.”

Kanan frowned, guessing at the game she was playing. He had to nip this at the bud before she started getting ideas. “This isn’t going to change anything, Hera.  I’m here for Ezra. This is a one-time thing.”

She didn’t seem bothered at all by his direct comment. “Well, either way, I’m glad you’re here and I’m glad you didn’t come dressed like death. Thank you for coming to help out all the same.”

“I’m sure you could have done this without us.”

Hera shrugged again. “Sure. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t use the help anyway. It’s a large shipment. Plenty of work for everyone, but I don’t think it’ll be too painful.”

Kanan wasn’t as convinced, but he had to admit that when he saw just how much cargo they’d brought with them for this milk run, for her sake it probably had been a good thing he, Ezra, and Proxy had come along. He stared at the cargo hold of the  _Ghost_ , and was impressed. Stacks of crates were piled high from front to back. If all these crates were filled with supplies, it would go a long way to helping this village.

Hera stepped up into the  _Ghost’s_  hold, and he and the others waited as she gave out their instructions.

“Everyone grab a crate. Chopper will show you where you’re going to hand out supplies. AP-5 and I will stay here to do inventory for the delivery we’ll make later. Until then, you all can get started.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kanan replied as he stepped forward with the others to take one, all the while hiding his disappointment. Since he was doing this mission, he’d at least wanted to do it around Hera and not with her crew, who he suspected would be studying his every move. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, it was unnerving, and he wished Ezra would feel the same way so they’d have a clear reason to leave early. Based on the animated way he was talking with Zeb, however, and the gruff smile the Lasat gave him back in reply, Kanan had a feeling he wasn’t going to get so lucky.

At the astromech’s warbled commands, they set up in a line in what appeared to be the village’s market, and within moments a crowd had formed. Desperate and gaunt faces gazed at each of them with hope and relief that Kanan could feel like a growing flood in the Force. Its sudden appearance buffeted him, threatened to drown him, and he had to take a moment to clench the edge of his crate to steady himself.

He hadn’t felt so much open relief and hope like this since the Clone Wars.

“Hey, you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Kanan told Sabine after taking another breath, focusing instead on the physical scent of the market. It had a slightly sour odor with overtones of warmth and comfort in the food being prepared in stalls nearby. It helped ground him, center him again, and he took the lid off his crate to find dirt-covered potatoes and waxy gourds. On either side of him he watched as Sabine, Zeb, and Ezra began handing out what supplies they had, medical supplies, fruits, ration packs, and he mirrored their actions as Proxy and Chopper helped organize the crowd into easy lines.

An elderly woman with rheumy eyes covered his hands with her weathered ones as she took a gourd.

“Thank you so much. You can’t imagine how much what you’re doing means to us.” The relief in the Force radiating off her was strong with honesty, and he couldn’t help the small smile he gave her as his heart both lightened and clenched despite himself.

“You’re welcome.”

It continued this way, and Kanan was thanked more times in half an hour than he’d ever been thanked in his life. But instead of the bright accomplishment he could feel flowing off the others for their selfless work, a dark pit was forming in his gut with every passing minute. It was made worse because he felt the sincerity behind every word given to him — even the grudging, cynical grumble of one man who’d bustled in only to take what he’d wanted before vanishing again.

Down the line he saw Ezra’s smiling face, and he wondered if the boy knew his Force stealth had weakened. Between the hope and relief in the crowd, and the proud happiness ebbing from Ezra in warm waves, Kanan felt surrounded and inundated.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so out of place.

He carried on with his work quietly, his movements growing more mechanical, his responses guilt-lined instead of gentle, and he tried not to think about how in another life he might have done this sort of work and actually felt as proud and selfless as his apprentice. But this wasn’t that life, and what these people didn’t know was that they were receiving food from the hands of a killer, and thanking him for it. He wasn’t good enough for this, not like Ezra and the others. He was too dark, too … corrupted.

It was starting to make him sick.

“Could someone help me move the rest of these crates off the  _Ghost_?” Hera asked through the comm. “I only need one of you.”

Kanan’s heart leapt at the opportunity to get away, to spend time with Hera and away from his mounting guilt and shame. Anything to get away. His finger was already on his comlink. He would try not to sound too desperate.

Ezra beat him to the punch.

“I’ll be right there,” his apprentice said quickly into his own comlink before stepping away from his crate and darting off before Kanan even had a chance to stop him. A look to either side of him was proof enough he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with this new development, but neither the Mandalorian or the Lasat said anything. Resigned, he tried not to think about the missed opportunity and instead focused on getting the work over with so they could all stop and leave. That was the only way this would end.

The resulting silence between the three of them was stiff, and wordlessly they all continued to hand out their supplies. He filled a young mother’s satchel with several potatoes, then watched her move away quickly to reunite with her waiting children as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“Tone it down,” Sabine said out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled at an old man and handed him a melon. “You’re here to help them, right?”

“I am helping them,” Kanan replied stoically. His crate was already half-empty.

“She means you’re scaring them,” Zeb muttered. “You may not look like your alter ego, but your bearing says otherwise. You started off fine, but if you haven’t noticed, these people have started to come to me rather than to you. And I’m much scarier than you are.”

“That’s debatable,” Kanan countered but he knew Zeb was right. People were going out of their way to avoid him — only the brave ones approached him now — and he frowned. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, and slowly he forced his posture to relax. Softened his face. Thinking about the differences between what he was and what Ezra and Hera’s crew were was only making the difference more noticeable. For the sake of the people they were helping, he needed to stop thinking like this. He needed to stop begrudging this mission and letting his shame and guilt show through. This wasn’t about him.

But how was he supposed to do that? If he had to hide that part of him, who was he supposed to pretend to be, then? He hadn’t done work like this since before the Clone Wars, and he had no idea how he should act.

Hera’s voice fluttered through his mind as if only waiting for him to ask the question, and he wondered if now was a good time to try to be the Kanan Jarrus she hoped he could be, if only this once so he wouldn’t scare off the people her crew was working so hard to help.

Channeling the gunslinger in him, he took a breath and closed his eyes before pulling on the persona and letting it settle, pushing the darker part away. When he opened his eyes again, letting his Force sight sharpen to normal, he saw that it was already working. The change had been almost instantaneous; noticeable in the subtle modification of his countenance and the manner in which everyone else began responding. Zeb and Sabine physically relaxed. The people in the crowd were starting to look at him now, look at what he had to offer. A friendly smile pulled at his lips and the heavy weight of his Force aura lifted. Kanan felt this change resound in the quality of the Force all around him, reacting to him as if he were actively influencing it. He tried not to pay it much attention.

But the gunslinger, this Kanan Jarrus that he knew Hera liked, couldn’t help but marvel at all the stark differences occurring before his sight, even as it ignored the darker part that promised this was a mistake.

When a little girl came up and shyly asked for a potato, he smiled at her kindly and she gave him a bashful one in return before skittering off. Kanan’s heart softened, and since he was being this Kanan Jarrus for the time being, he let it. What was the harm, just this once?

Zeb scoffed, but Kanan felt some approval there too ebbing from the Lasat.

During a rare lull, he realized that Ezra was still gone when AP-5 arrived to join them. The droid paused only long enough to tell them the delivery inventory was complete — and that he was astounded that they were moving so slowly with the distribution, certain he could have done a better job with the same amount of time — before moving to join Proxy and Chopper. If the inventory was done, both Ezra and Hera should have come back too.

Focusing his sight, Kanan found them seated on crates near the  _Ghost_  as they spoke together. It struck him that that might not be a good thing, and as he canted his head and prepared to improve his hearing, Zeb came jogging back. The Lasat had left a few minutes earlier for a short break, but there was caution and the low buzz of agitation in his Force aura now, along with a deep frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Looks like we’ve got some bucketheads on the way,” Zeb grumbled, his posture already shifting in preparation for an assault. “They get here and find out what we’re doing, and there’s going to be a firefight. I doubt there’s much time to get away. We either need to clear out, or clear the area of civilians.”

“Hold on a second,” Sabine said as she pulled on her helmet and dropped her rangefinder before turning to the wall behind them and climbing up, using several of the empty crates as steps. She vanished over the top and while she reconned from above, Kanan reset the scope of his sight and saw the same thing she reported. “We’re in luck. It’s just a two-man guard patrol. No droids.”

“And there are quite a few alleys around here,” Kanan added as he extended the scope of his sight out further, mapping the immediate area. “Plenty of places they might be drawn into and taken care of before they even make it this far.”

“It would be a crying shame if they came here and disrupted things. Started a fight,” commented Zeb as he crossed his arms. “These people need the supplies, and damage to the buildings here would only set them back.”

Sabine vaulted lightly to the ground. “We’ll have to be careful about it. We don’t want to scare the locals or give Imperial reinforcements a chance to be called either.”

“Good thing stealth is a specialty of mine,” Kanan said as he dropped the potato he’d been handling. The pair stared at him, surprise and disbelief evident. He ignored them. “Proxy, stay here and keep distributing. We won’t be long.”

“Of course, Kanan. Let me know if you require assistance.” Without complaint Proxy took Kanan’s vacated place. Chopper began rolling toward them, clearly intent on joining, while AP-5 took a place beside Proxy.

“With you going, the entire town will know what they’re up to,” AP-5 told the astromech “You shouldn’t go.”

Chopper responded with rude, gritty binary that AP-5 didn’t acknowledge, but Sabine shook her head at the astromech.

“He’s right, Chop. Too many of us going will make us more noticeable. We can handle this. Stay here and help the others.” The droid gurgled but did as he was told, and though there was uncertainty between the three of them, they moved together on their way toward the stormtroopers. Hera’s crewmates’ attempts at inconspicuously ogling him didn’t let up though.

“What?”

“Just surprised that you’re willing to help out,” Sabine replied. “Didn’t think you’d want to do any more than you’d agreed to.”

Kanan shrugged. “I’d say it’s something more my speed, and I wouldn’t want all our hard work to go to waste.”

“Well then, let’s see what you’ve got,” Zeb said. “After all, you say stealth is your specialty. This should be cake for you.”

They made their way together, the others following him as he checked the troopers’ position in the Force. They weren’t far away now, from them or the market. He picked a deep, darkened alley and ushered Sabine and Zeb in.

“Wait down there. I have a plan.”

Though they’d been willing to work with him moments ago, now that they were about to do this he could feel unease waver off them like hot air over desert sand.

“I don’t think—”

“All right,” Sabine said as she cut Zeb off. The Lasat shot her a look, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze rested on Kanan. “What’s your plan?”

Kanan gave her a nod, surprised by her willingness to cooperate despite her private opinions. He started focusing on what he needed to do to get the Imperials down the alley quietly, and with as little incident as possible. A plan came easily together.

“This needs to be done without anyone noticing. No blaster fire. No shouting. No reports. I’ll get them down the alley and you two knock them out. We tie them up, destroy their comms, put them somewhere, and carry on with our day. Easy as that.”

“And if we’re supposed to do all that without drawing any attention, how are you going to get them down here?” Zeb grunted. “I doubt they’re going to just walk in all on their own.”

Kanan smirked. “Well, maybe not completely on their own.” He walked over to a small garbage pile and found a long piece of broken wood, slim and ugly, but stable. He pulled it out. “But this will help.”

“That’s not going to do anything against them, least of all convince them to go down a dark alley. You’re out of your mind,” Zeb grumbled before he looked to Sabine for support. “We should have just handled this ourselves.”

“You know, if we’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to trust me.” Kanan broke the stick about midway until he judged it was about proper length. Zeb rolled his eyes.

“Hard to believe the kid got that from you. He said the same thing when he was with us.”

Unable to stop himself, Kanan smiled. Willful as Ezra sometimes was, it was nice to hear from others that his ward had taken his lessons as a Jedi to heart, and that maybe Kanan hadn’t done so bad a job raising him after all. That he had taught his apprentice something good, instead of being left guessing if he was a good influence at all.

“Well, I did train him.”

As he looked at the stick, he considered his options. The reason of his choice. If silence and stealth was the point — and it was — this was the best way. The troopers’ guards would be down and easy to get behind. Manipulate. This was the best way.

But then Zeb and Sabine would know.

Oddly enough he wasn’t as bothered by his decision as he knew he should be — whether because of his adherence to the gunslinger’s behavior or because he’d lost his mind, he didn’t know. But before he could second guess himself or his plan, Kanan pulled off his glareshades and pulled his hair from its tie, ruffling it a bit before tugging his cloak into place. Then he took the broken wood and arranged it as a makeshift walking stick.

Surprise flared from Sabine, her cool composure slipping as Zeb openly gaped.

“You’re kidding me,” Zeb said as he stared at Kanan. At his blind eyes and old scars. “You’re blind? You’ve been blind the entire time?”

“How does it feel, being outrun by a blind man?” Kanan asked with a smug smirk he couldn’t contain, no matter how the Reaper in him swore and insisted he’d just made a grave mistake. Zeb glared.

“Again. I can see where he gets it from.”

“No wonder no one’s been able to find you,” Sabine mused as she pulled herself together. “Who would ever think you were blind?”

Zeb’s eyes turned skyward, his face pulled into a scowl. “Force users. Ashla, this is the stuff of fiction.”

In the Force, he saw the stormtroopers had rounded the nearest corner. They were almost there, and Kanan began walking toward the mouth of the alley. “Fiction or not, doesn’t matter right now. They’re just down the way.”

“How do you know?” Zeb demanded before he heard himself. “Never mind.”

Kanan smuggled away the quick grin that had flashed across his lips, and a second later the sound of the stormtrooper’s boots grew louder. Show time.

“Ready?” Kanan asked, hunching his shoulders, and they nodded before disappearing further into the darkness. Kanan turned his blind eyes down and now pulled on his blind beggar persona, pretending to feel his way around with his stick just as the pair of troopers passed in front of him.

As planned he stumbled into them.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” One of them demanded as a hand seized on his arm. The grip was tight and he flinched for effect. The other spoke when he got a good look at him.

“Wait a minute, he’s blind.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said the first as he gave him a violent shake. “This’ll teach him to either watch where he’s going or get new eyes.”

Kanan was tempted to roll his eyes if it wouldn’t have given him away. Instead he pretended to stumble again, and this time when he was sure he had both of their attention, he lifted his hand as if to catch his balance. That was all it took to break through their weak mental defenses.

“You heard a noise down there,” Kanan said as he calmly stood, letting his influence in the Force filter into their unprotected and unsuspecting minds. “You should check, but leave your weapons on safe the whole time. It’s probably nothing.”

He felt the mind trick take before stepping out of the way and out of sight as they both stilled, their aggression forgotten, and slowly straightened. After a moment, they both turned to look down the alley.

“I think I heard something down there.”

“I guess we should check,” the trooper who’d caught him earlier muttered, and Kanan watched as they both clicked their weapons to safe. “It’s probably nothing though. Vermin.”

Together they stepped into the darkness and Kanan followed them like a shadow before leaning against the wall to watch. As curious as Zeb and Sabine were about him and his abilities, he found he was just as curious about theirs, and he watched with a smirk as they enacted the next part of the plan with brutal efficiency. As the troopers crumpled to the ground without a sound and were hauled away to the shadows a moment later, he had to admit he was impressed.

Not that he would tell them that.


	19. Milk Run - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is a very dialog dense chapter, since Hera and Ezra have a lot to talk about. But I think you’re going to like it :]

Hera smiled when she saw Ezra climb the  _Ghost’s_  ramp. When she’d opened a spot to work with her, she’d fully expected Kanan to jump at the opportunity, but she was glad that it was Ezra instead who’d answered her call.

“You needed help?”

“Yes. We need to move the rest of these crates out of the  _Ghost_  before we make the delivery later. Just help me get them to where AP-5 is.” She gestured to where the inventory droid was impatiently waiting with a datapad below.

“No problem,” Ezra told her before approaching the first crate. As he activated the anti-grav, he said, “Thanks Hera, for letting us come on this mission. You didn’t have to, but Sabine told me you might.”

Hera gave him a kind look after she’d collected her crate. “There’s no need to thank me, Ezra. I’d hoped Kanan would get in contact with me again for something like this. I’m just surprised he did. When I’d asked him before we all went our own ways, he’d been adamant about breaking ties.”

Ezra responded with a weak chuckle. “Well, that one was kinda on me. I convinced him to do it.”

Hera stared, astonished. “You must be quite the smooth talker, if you can convince Kanan to do anything.” They both began walking the first round of supplies off the  _Ghost_. AP-5 motioned for them to place the cargo in the shade of a nearby wall.

“I like to think so, but that wasn’t it,” Ezra corrected. “He made a deal with me before Garel, and I reminded him that he needed to keep his word. He’s a bit of a stickler about that.”

“Is he? That’s good to know.” They placed the crates in the shade before they went back for more.

Switching topic, Ezra said, “So, you met Kanan before Garel, right?” Hera lifted an eyebrow.

“You didn’t know? He didn’t tell you?”

“No, and Sabine told me. Where’d you meet him? It’s not like him to let anyone know who he is.” There was something at the end of that statement that edged dark, and Hera decided it was wise not to think too deeply about why she might be a very lucky person to have known who Kanan was and who he might also be, and still be alive.

“We met on a planet called Gorse five years ago. It was happenstance that we met at all.”

“Oh, I remember that mission,” Ezra said thoughtfully. “He was gone a month. He told me he stopped a moon from exploding. Didn’t tell me about you though.”

“I’m pretty sure he wanted to pretend he never met me,” Hera replied, thinking back to the high-paced running, constant threat of explosion, and Count Vidian’s cold presence — and how he’d experienced most of it in conjunction with her.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ezra agreed. “These next?”

Together they unloaded the supplies, and through it all Hera studied the boy. He was so different than she’d ever expected. Compared to Kanan’s darker disposition, Ezra was like a beacon of light. Bright-eyed, engaging, amusing, it was hard to believe that this boy was the enigmatic Rider. It was even harder to believe he was Kanan’s partner, but the longer she watched him the more she could see the signs of Ezra’s upbringing.

He moved like Kanan, and the way he spoke was a bit like Kanan too. He had the same grace. Same latent power. Same control that made her wonder if it was something Force users just had, or if it was something he’d learned from Kanan. But for their similarities, Ezra was more lively and outspoken. Less cautious, and her eyes kept catching on the physical differences like the deep black of Ezra’s hair, as opposed to Kanan’s rich brown. On the smoother arch of Ezra’s cheekbones and gentle slope of his nose, as opposed to Kanan’s whose were more pronounced.

She supposed she could squint and guess they might be related, that maybe Ezra took more after his mother, but it wasn’t quite coming together in her mind. Ezra was too old to be Kanan’s son — maybe a nephew or more distant relative. But if she was wrong, then she’d greatly misjudged Kanan’s age.

As they prepared to move the last of the crates, she decided to ask.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit personal to ask, but is Kanan your father?”

Ezra’s brows arched high as he peeked around the crate he was manipulating. Then he gave her a small smirk and half a shrug before activating his crate’s anti-grav.

“That’s what we tell people, but he’s not actually my biological father. When I was younger we needed a way to explain why he had a seven-year-old trailing around with him, and that was the easiest and most believable explanation at the time. We do kinda look similar.” Ezra began pushing the crate around. “That, and Kanan’s always looked older than he is. When he decides to act, he can appear even older, so one thinks to question it.”

Together they put their final crates down with the others, and as Ezra deactivated the anti-grav, he gave her a slow look. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she said, curious about what questions he might have for her. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you let us come help today?” He looked at her with startlingly focused blue eyes. “Is it still just to recruit me and Kanan into the rebellion?”

Hera took a moment to peek down the way. From her position, she could see Kanan standing between Zeb and Sabine, and it was a strange sight.

But not necessarily a bad one.

“That’s part of the reason,” she admitted before she looked back at Ezra. “There’s a lot of potential in Kanan, potential I think could help the galaxy. The rebellion.” She gave him a small grin and decided to answer the other half-honestly. “The other part is simply that I wanted to see him again, and actually get to meet you before he spirits you off.”

Ezra looked over his shoulder at Kanan, as if to check and make sure he wasn’t looking — who could say, though if anyone would know, it was probably the boy in front of her — before he heaved himself up onto a crate to sit and face her. Like this they were both hidden by the stacks of supplies next to them, garnering a bit of privacy in the chilly shade.

“Why would you even want to see him again?” he asked, and for a moment Hera thought Ezra was being protective. But a look in his eyes told her that wasn’t it at all. There was some other reason, a problem he was trying to understand.

“Why do you ask?” Ezra let his eyes drift over his shoulder again. From Hera’s better perspective she could see Kanan was preoccupied with the others. “I know he can see more than he lets on, but can he hear that well too?”

Ezra’s eyes widened as he shot them back at her. “You know?”

“That he’s blind?” Hera nodded. “While I was at your base, he showed me. I hadn’t known before then.” Ezra’s brow furrowed in confusion as if his puzzle just got larger, but he ended up just giving a tiny shake of his head before answering her question.

“He can hear that well, if he wants to. His focus is incredible, and his skill over his sensory enhancements is insane. But if he doesn’t think to do it, he hears about as well as everyone else does. And since we’re having this conversation at all, and he hasn’t stormed over yet to stop it, I’d say we’re in the clear.” He paused before continuing. “But the reason I’m asking is because I know what happened when you were with Kanan.” His eyes locked on hers. “You touched his scythe, didn’t you?”

Hera’s heart quickened. “Yes, I did. He wasn’t around and that thing was sticking out of the floor. I touched it and … and something attacked me.” The bruises were gone, but she could still feel that hand around her neck sometimes. Hear that dark voice whisper, clad in a mockery of Kanan’s form.

Ezra’s lips tightened. “You don’t know how lucky you are to be alive, Hera.”

“It almost killed me,” Hera admitted, and she watched as his gaze slowly dropped from hers.

“I know. It almost killed me too, three years ago.”

Surprise was like electricity in her blood as she imagined that thing attempting to kill Ezra, Kanan’s own partner. Ezra wouldn’t raise his eyes to meet hers. Instead he reached out a hand. A small, jagged rock floated there as if magnetized. He turned it in his hands with listless movements just as AP-5 informed her that he was leaving to assist the others in distributing the supplies. As the droid left, she watched Ezra manipulate the stone for a moment before asking the question Kanan wouldn’t answer.

“What is it? That’s no ordinary scythe.”

“It’s a Force weapon,” Ezra explained, eyes still on the rock in his hands. “Before Jedi fought with lightsabers and kyber crystals, they started off using regular weapons just like anyone else would. The only difference was that through the Force, those weapons could be strengthened, and be made to behave similarly to how a lightsaber might. Stronger, faster, lighter, that sort of thing.” The blue of his eyes flashed up to meet hers briefly, before they dropped again. “Do you remember when Kanan was fighting that Inquisitor on Garel? The Inquisitor was using a lightsaber, and it should have cut through Kanan’s scythe. But it didn’t. That’s because Kanan’s been strengthening it with the Force.”

“I’m surprised no one’s heard about weapons like that,” Hera muttered. There should be a black market for Force enhanced weapons, if that was the case. Ezra shrugged.

“That’s probably because the effects are usually temporary. If you don’t take the time to strengthen it, it loses its effectiveness. Kanan’s scythe is special though. He’s been strengthening it for years. Feeding it. It never has the time to weaken.”

“I can’t believe that a Jedi Force weapon would create something so … deadly.” Growing up she’d heard many stories of the Jedi and the good they did. The kindness they brought with them. Her father hadn’t always been on the best of terms with them, but she’d enjoyed the stories as much as any Rylothian youngling had. They were symbols of hope and light, after all, and in war you cling to what you can. But just remembering that shade of Kanan, its malevolent red eyes as it tried to choke the life out of her … how could that possibly be Jedi?

“Well, a Jedi Force weapon could create something that powerful, I guess,” Ezra replied. “But a Jedi Force weapon wouldn’t attack like that. At least, it wouldn’t attack anything that wasn’t clearly dark side, and you don’t strike me as a darksider. And I’m a Jedi.” Idly, Ezra turned the rock in his hands, and a weighted silence built as she patiently waited for him to continue. Eventually he tossed the stone into the dirt before catching her eyes again, seriousness written across his face. “What Kanan made isn’t a Jedi weapon, Hera. It’s a Sith weapon.”

Sith? Something tugged at the back of her mind, something she might have overheard once, years ago around her father or in a story her mother had told her before she’d died. The Jedi were a force for good. Light side. But there was a dark side too, like a shadow. Like a nightmare. Like whispers in the dark, there to tempt you away.

Cold confusion spread across her face, but she knew her suspicions were right when Ezra wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Her body went numb as she tried to process the information, and she shifted so she was also sitting on the crate next to Ezra.

Hera’s mind hurried to make sense of what the boy had just told her. It was impossible. It had to be. Kanan wasn’t evil. When she thought of the dark side, she thought of vile, terrible, cruel things. Awful things. Dark things.

Unfortunately, Hera couldn’t in good conscience say that what Kanan did as the Reaper … it wasn’t in its own way all those things too. She sensed there was an inherent difference there, but that difference … it was a blurred line.

Kanan was on the lighter side of it, she knew that, but how much lighter was it really?

“Where did it come from?”

“Nowhere. He had the scythe custom-made a long time ago. He’s the one that changed it into a Force weapon.”

So many questions raced through her mind and she had no idea where to begin.

“How … why does he keep it? Just because it’s powerful? Does he even know what he’s made? What—” Hera was lost. She wasn’t trained for anything like this, and she felt a little like she was drowning trying to piece it all together. Ezra gave her a small, sympathetic smile that looked more pained than anything.

 “He knows, but it’s not something I can talk to him about. And I wish that power was the only reason he keeps it. I might be able to make him get rid of it, if it was,” Ezra said quietly, but a line of bitterness made the statement hard and sharp. “But it’s not. Kanan … it’s complicated.”

She nodded for him to continue, intent on doing her best to follow along. Ezra mindlessly echoed the motion. She wondered if he realized he had.

“The scythe isn’t just a Force weapon he’s made, Hera. The primary difference between why it’s a Sith weapon and not a Jedi weapon is because of what he focuses on while he strengthens it. For Jedi, we might strengthen a blade with the idea of fortitude. Of peace. Something positive and strong that isn’t likely to result in a Force presence like you saw. Impressions that would fade away naturally over time.”

“Then what does Kanan think of when he’s strengthening it?”

“Anger,” Ezra replied. “Pain. Dark emotions. All the stuff Jedi are trained to let go of. For years he’s been feeding it, concentrating its strength with all the hate and anger he feels for the Empire. He says he does it so he won’t fall to the dark side. That it levels him out so he stays in control, and I think he’s right. It helps. But it’s like a quick fix, and I also think that after so long giving the scythe his darker emotions, he’s kind of connected to it. He needs it, or I like to hope it’s only because he thinks he needs it. There’s so much of himself in it that he can’t let it go, at least not easily. It’s also why it’s able to manifest a presence of itself. Why it’s so hot to the touch.”

“You’re telling me that the thing that tried to kill me … it really  _was_ Kanan?” Icy dread swept through Hera. Disturbed, she took a deep breath and was thankful for Ezra’s warm companionship. It was impossible, none of that could be true, but what that shade had said, how it had looked ….

Hera shivered, and Ezra frowned but looked at her imploringly.

“It was just the dark part of him. The part he tries to pull out and contain. I don’t think Kanan would ever mean for anything like that to happen to anyone.”

“Then why would he … why would he make something like that?”

Ezra gave her a bone-weary sigh, one she felt all the way to the core of her. “He’s never told me, but I can tell you why I’d do it. Jedi are trained to let go of pain, anger, sadness, suffering. Those will all lead you down the path of the dark side, if you can’t figure out a way to let them go. They’ll consume you. But letting go of the pain, and the anger … Hera, it’s not easy. Especially when you’re sensitive to the Force. It’s hard enough for me, and I—”

Ezra cut himself abruptly off, his eyes flashing with what she sensed was old pain, but Ezra paused and did something she’d witnessed Kanan do several times during their week together. He stilled and took a breath, clearly focusing on wrangling his emotions, before he started up again.

“I’ve always had Kanan’s help working through and controlling my anger. He’s always been there to guide me so I don’t fall.” Ezra interlaced his hands together and held them tightly, and emotion wavered in his voice, despite his struggle to contain them. Hera felt her heart move for him. Just from the sound of his voice alone, she could guess he’d been bothered by these concerns about Kanan for a long time, with no one to talk to or confide in about them. Getting the opportunity like he was now had to mean a lot.

Again, Ezra took a calming breath. “I’ve asked myself this question a lot. What if he hadn’t been there? How would I have worked through my anger? My pain? If I were him, I could either submit to it, lash out with it, or if I was clever and trained and desperate, I could put it somewhere else.”

Hera frowned as pieces began aligning in her mind. “Kanan’s a survivor of the Jedi Purge.”

“Can you imagine what that must have been like? He’s twenty-nine. That would have made him fourteen when it happened. He lost everything, and who knows what else has happened to him since then? What he’s had to do. He won’t tell me, so I don’t know fully … but I think that whatever happened was just too much for him.”

Thoughts, imaginings of what it must have been like to be a Purge survivor flickered through her mind. Had it been anything like her own experiences on Ryloth? War-torn and living in fear every day? Hunted?

“But Kanan’s a former Jedi,” Ezra continued. “He’s on me all the time about not giving into the dark side, but what must it have been like growing up in the Temple, where your entire lifestyle is centered around not giving into anger or emotion? Can you imagine how guilty he must have been just feeling anger, when he grew up like that? And after the Purge, who wouldn’t be angry? So, I think the best he could do was put it somewhere else. Into the scythe, so he could still be in control.”

Ezra sat silent for a moment, letting his words settle in the air before he started speaking again a little more sedately. “That’s what I would do, I think. Not to mention it has the added benefit of creating a Force weapon, something the Empire wouldn’t expect a Jedi to use since Jedi are supposed to wield lightsabers. The method is archaic, so no one would suspect. Better protection without anyone knowing.”

“But moving all that anger isn’t the same as dealing with it,” Hera couldn’t help but point out. Ezra shrugged.

“That’s why the weapon’s so strong, I guess. Since he never deals with his feelings, they keep coming back, bigger and stronger than they were, and he just keeps pushing them into the scythe. The scythe never has time to lose its enhancement, so it just gets more powerful. The assassinations don’t help, either. Half the time I think it’s the scythe that wants to do them, since Kanan always feels the need to meditate with it afterward.”

Hera thought about everything Ezra was telling her and was surprised he was telling her all of this at all. This was valuable insight into Kanan, insight Ezra shouldn’t have felt the need to give her under normal circumstances. In reality, they were still strangers to each other. But that’s what struck her. Ezra’s openness. Kanan wouldn’t tell her anything, and Proxy was the same way, but Ezra was giving her everything.

Why?

“Tell me, Ezra. Why do you want to join the rebellion?”

Ezra looked at her for a moment with haunted blue eyes, and she could see just how worried this boy was.

“You can’t figure it out, Hera?”

“It’s to save him, isn’t it?” Though it was a question, the moment it slipped from her mouth she knew she was right. “You’re worried that one day he’s going to go too far.”

“Usually I’m enough to pull him back when he gets close to the edge,” Ezra said. “But recently, it’s gotten harder. On Garel, when he was fighting that Inquisitor, Kanan had forced him back and we could have escaped right then. But when Kanan usually would have run, he didn’t. He almost continued the fight. When I’m at risk, he never does that.”

“Do you know why it’s gotten harder?”

Ezra shook his head. “I don’t know. He won’t tell me, but the worse it’s gotten, the more he uses his scythe.” The boy swallowed before taking a deep breath. “Hera, I’m worried. If something doesn’t change, I think he really might fall. I want to join because it’s the right thing to do, but mostly it’s because I’m hoping the rebellion might somehow help Kanan. Or at least slow his descent down some until I can figure something else out. But at the rate he’s going, if nothing happens ….”

His voice trailed off, and she felt colder than the chill in the air. If Kanan’s own partner thought he was on the path to the dark side, then Kanan was worse off than Hera had ever fathomed.

“And he won’t listen to you?”

“Some, but not seriously. I’m his apprentice, and the closest thing to family he’s got. He raised me, and though he trusts me, I’m still a kid to him. Someone he needs to protect. Not an equal.”

Hera could see his point, but frowned in response.

“What do you think the rebellion can do?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Distance him from his darkness, I guess. Give him a reason to work past the pain he’s holding on to.” Ezra’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

“If what you’ve said about Kanan is right, I’m not sure how much the rebellion is going to be able to help. He wants to do these assassinations, for the scythe or to hurt the Empire — it doesn’t really matter. The rebellion … Ezra I’m afraid it can only do so much. If he’s not listening to you, of all people, why would he recognize anything the rebellion has to say?”

“I know,” he replied before he gave her a hopeful look. “But I think that’s where you can help, Hera. He may not listen to me or the rebellion, but he listens to you.” Hera couldn’t help the scoff that slipped from her chest, but Ezra didn’t budge. “I’m serious. When I was away and you were there, something must have changed because he hasn’t been the same since.”

That caught her attention.

“What do you mean?” It had only been a week, so she couldn’t imagine what sort of effect she could have possibly had on someone like him, but Ezra was insistent.

“It’s hard to pinpoint exactly, but in little ways he’s behaving differently. He’s been quieter. Calmer, and not because of the scythe. I know the difference.”

Hera couldn’t help but be skeptical, and it must have shown on her face. Ezra sighed.

“All I know is that there’s something about you that got to him, in a good way. He took you to our base. He showed you his face. Proxy even told me he went on a mission with you while I was gone, and he said that before he told you guys about what we did, Kanan looked  _happy_. Hera, I think you know this, but Kanan’s not exactly the happiest guy around.”

Hera had to give Ezra that. “I still don’t know, Ezra. I want to believe it, but while I was there he ran hot and cold. Speaking to me one moment and enraged the next. There were a couple of times I thought he might attack me.”

Ezra grimaced. “He … he didn’t, did he?”

“No,” Hera admitted.

The boy frowned and took a deep breath. “Good. That’s good.” He looked at her intently. “He didn’t touch the scythe those times?”

“Not that I know of. Most of the time he trained, or meditated. It stayed in the ceiling pretty much the whole week.”

Ezra ran a hand over his face but nodded. “Hera, I wish you could understand just how good that is. Whenever he has an episode, he uses the scythe to level out again. But he didn’t do it this time while you were there.”

“Is it really a big deal?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ezra agreed firmly. “Because he’s been slipping more often, lately, he’s been using the scythe more. But while you were there he had to do other things to deal with his anger, even if he used the scythe again when we got back.”

Hera was disappointed to hear that, but not surprised.

Silence sat between them, interrupted only by the distant sound of the market behind them, white noise as they both considered everything they’d discussed. It was a lot. More than she’d been prepared to find out today, if she was being honest. Kanan … when she’d taken this mission from Fulcrum, she’d had no idea what sort of situation she was about to get herself and her crew into. She’d thought this would be easier. Simpler. She’d thought she’d known something of Kanan.

More and more she was coming to realize just how little she knew of the man. How much baggage he carried with him.

But that didn’t change her decision.

“You know him better than I do. Do you think there’s any way I can help?”

“Honestly, after hearing that he completely changed his behavior for you, I’m about ready to beg you to move in with us,” Ezra said with a faint laugh that showed all his worry and desperation. “But with the way he’s acting right now, something like that would push him the wrong way. And I doubt that’s a commitment you’re willing to make.”

Hera gave him a smile that told him he wasn’t wrong about that. Then she thought back to her week with Kanan, trying to find something they could work with. “The best I saw him was usually when we interacted, if we don’t count the times he was pushed. When he was busy and had something else to focus on.”

Ezra nodded. “When he’s focused, he’s fine. It’s when he’s stressed and he has time to think that he gets worse. Particularly when he’s planning an assassination.” He said this with quiet loathing, and Hera wondered if the only reason why Kanan was stable at all was because of Ezra. This boy, he was no killer. She sensed he had reasons to hate the Empire, but then most people did. But where Kanan was in it for what she assumed was vengeance, she wondered if Ezra only took part in Kanan’s work for Kanan’s sake. The only thing standing between Kanan and the dark.

And she found she didn’t want him to stand alone. Not anymore.

“It sounds like the best thing we can do then, is to keep him busy. Give him other things to focus on than those assassinations, if they’re what trigger him. You can’t do them right now anyway, since the Empire is looking for you.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Maybe there’s a way we can convince him to take up more missions with me and my crew?”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make him call you again,” Ezra confided, though the line of his shoulders relaxed. “The next time will have to be because _he_ says yes. But I’m hoping that since he said yes once already, he’ll say yes again.”

“That’s something I think will come down to time.”

“Well, we’ve got nothing but time right now, so … maybe?”

She gave him an encouraging look. “I hope so.”

“I guess that’s all we can do. Hope, for his sake.” But he gave her a tentative and hopeful smile. “But if he does go for it, I hope that the more we work together, with you guys and the rebellion, the more Kanan might forget about the darkness he’s carrying. He wasn’t always like this, after all. He started off as a Jedi. I think that part of him still is one, deep down.”

“Well, if he is, Ezra, I want to help you bring it out again,” Hera told him. “I don’t want to see him fall any more than you do. We’ll go slow, give him time to adjust. But if you’re willing to try, I am too.”

Light appeared in his eyes, along with amazement that she wanted to help, but then it dimmed as he thought of something.

“You might be, but what about Zeb and Sabine?”

Good question. Just because she was willing to do this didn’t mean her crew would.

“I’ll talk with them and we’ll work something out. But don’t worry. You’re not alone now, Ezra.”

She gently squeezed his shoulder, and she saw the relief in his blue eyes. “Thanks, Hera.”

She smiled at him before dropping her hand and slipping off the crate. The sun was drifting closer to the horizon, sign enough that the mission would be ending soon. “Come on. Let’s see how the others are doing.”

Ezra slipped off the crate to stand next to her. “Hopefully Kanan’s playing nice.”

Hera gave him a face that told Ezra she hoped the same thing, though she was more curious about who it was that wouldn’t play nice. All three of them were as likely as the others in her mind. When they neared the distribution point she saw that, instead of bickering or cold silences, they were all missing. In their places were the droids who were passing out what remained of the supplies now.

She stared at them.

“Where are the others?”

“They left a little while ago,” replied AP-5. “Frankly I’ve been waiting for explosions and blaster fire, but the silence is somehow more disturbing.”

“I’d be more surprised by explosions and blaster fire, personally,” Proxy countered as he turned his yellow photoreceptors on the inventory droid. “Kanan’s not the type to draw attention to his actions. At least, not when he isn’t acting as his alter ego.”

“Wait, Prox. What do you mean?” Ezra said, eyes suddenly sharp. Before either droid could respond, Chopper warbled and they watched as Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb strolled around the corner, nice and easy as if they’d just taken a leisurely walk.

Hera eyed the trio. They looked decidedly … smug. All of them. She narrowed her eyes.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Hera,” Kanan said as he passed by, dropping a warm hand on her shoulder as he flashed his glareshaded eyes and a quick grin at her. It only cemented the idea that something had indeed happened while she hadn’t been looking. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really Hera, it’s nothing,” Sabine agreed. “Just took care of a few problems headed our way. That’s all.”

Problems? She studied the three of them again intently and didn’t see any debris, dust, or hair out of place.

“Usually when there are ‘problems’, I hear about them. Literally.”

“Our friend here,” Zeb said as he stepped beside AP-5 to check the crate the droid was manning, “was showing us a quieter way of dealing with problems.”

Hera’s eyes darted to Kanan in disbelief, and she wasn’t the only one. Ezra’s face matched hers.

“You did?” the boy demanded, and Kanan’s face was impassive. “With them? As in you  _worked_ with them?”

“Believe it or not, Ezra, I know how to work with people other than you.” Kanan frowned at the boy, but Ezra didn’t appear to notice it. Not when a large grin was creeping across his face. Ezra’s blue eyes slipped up to catch Hera’s, and Hera struggled not to let her own hope show too brightly. Kanan lifted an eyebrow to her, but when she didn’t venture an answer he instead asked, “So what else is left to do?”

“Hand out the rest of what’s left here,” Hera replied, willing to roll with this for the time being. “And deliver the other crates to a nearby clinic.”

“How about we take the crates to the clinic?” Ezra offered as he nodded to Sabine and Zeb. “It’s over there, right? Shouldn’t take us too long. Let’s go.”

“Ah, come on, we just got back!” grumbled Zeb, but Sabine was already moving with Ezra and Hera gave a discreet nod for the Lasat to help them.

“I’ll save you a meiloorun,” Hera told him, and Zeb huffed but trudged after. She and Kanan both watched the three of them go before she turned to him. “So … the problems are taken care of, right?”

“Until they wake up and figure out how to get out of the bind we put them in. But I really wouldn’t worry about it.”

“All right,” she said slowly, trusting him before she bent down for a waxy vegetable, offering it away. “I’m sorry that happened. I promised a milk run, not a run in with Imperials.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Besides, your crew did all the fighting. I just made sure it was done quietly.”

She smirked at him. “Believe it or not, Kanan, that impresses me more than you can even imagine.”

Kanan’s warm chuckle rolled through the air and she cast a quick glance at him. She wished she could see his eyes, but the upward curl at the corner of his lips was consolation enough. It was certainly an improvement from the scowl he’d started off with when they’d started.

What remained of the work went quickly by, the small crowd thinning as the sun slipped down past the horizon, causing the sky to become lit with vibrant swatches of oranges, pinks, and purples that made Hera wonder if Sabine had painted it. Soon they were down to the last of it, and their teammates were laughing and joking nearby with the droids, since their part of the work was complete. While it was still just the two of them, and while everyone was still in good spirits, Hera gently nudged Kanan with her hip.

“Ezra looks happy.”

Kanan looked up at her, then at his partner before his features gentled.

“He does.”

“Thanks for coming, Kanan,” she said more seriously. “Ezra told me that he had to twist your arm a bit to do it. It wasn’t exactly the reason why I’d hoped you’d get in contact with me again, but I can’t say I’m not glad it happened that way.”

“Is that right?” Kanan asked, bending at the waist to lean his forearms against the edge of the crate. “What reason were you hoping to see me again?”

She grinned as she leaned her hip against the crate before lifting an eyebrow. “It’s not enough that I wanted to see your handsome face?”

“I knew it,” he teased with a soft, easy chuckle before they both watched a little girl leading a younger boy by the hand. She tugged at Ezra’s pants, asking a question, and Ezra looked up expectantly at Kanan. Kanan reached for the last pack in the crate before tossing it to Ezra.

Hera’s eyes softened as she watched him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Ezra gave the pack to the siblings, and the relief and pleasure on their young faces, coupled with Ezra’s bright smile as he waved them off made her heart warm. Hera watched as Kanan’s shoulders relaxed. A gentle smile grew on his face as he watched Ezra turn back to the others.

“I suppose not.”

* * *

 

Hera watched the  _Kasmiri_  oriented itself in space before lightspeed consumed it, ferrying Kanan, Ezra, and Proxy away. She wasn’t the only one to watch them go. Around her the rest of her crew watched as well. It surprised her that Zeb was first to speak.

“I guess they’re not so bad when they’re acting normal.”

“Well look at you,” Sabine said with an amused smirk. “Though I have to admit, I’m surprised too. Kanan’s not what I thought he was.”

“I take that as a good thing?” Hera asked, and Sabine shrugged.

“It’s too early to tell, but for now? Yes. I’d have to work with him more to give you a better answer though.”

“What about you, Zeb? What do you think?”

“Same, mostly. He’s arrogant, and I can see where the kid gets it from, but he was useful. And he didn’t kill anyone.” Zeb shrugged. “Still can’t believe he’s blind. Force users. Makes me feel a little better about Ezra, but still.”

Hera studied all of them for a moment before she ventured her plan. “Would any of you be opposed to offering them more missions with us? Of course they’d have to agree, but right now I want to know your opinions.”

“Well, we are still on a mission to recruit them,” Sabine replied with her practical viewpoint. “More missions together might eventually win them over. It’s a good opportunity to show them more of what the rebellion does.”

“True, but I’m not necessarily talking about the mission anymore,” Hera said. “I know Ezra would jump at the chance to join, but the one that needs convincing is Kanan. And winning him over, I think, isn’t going to depend on showing him how proficient we are or what the rebellion does.”

Zeb stared at her before his green eyes flashed. “You’re asking if we’re willing to make friends with them.” Zeb crossed his arms across his chest and Hera nodded. “To what end? If we’re not doing this to get them to join the rebellion, then why?”

Something that had been on her mind all evening was just how much she was willing to tell her crew about Kanan and his … problem. But she knew that if she held back, if her crew didn’t understand what they were getting into up front, there might be repercussions that could end badly. Not only for Kanan and Ezra, but for them as well.

So, even though Kanan would likely have some choice words with her one day over this, she told them.

“Ezra’s worried that Kanan’s going too far.” Hera said. “And frankly, I am too. I know you don’t know Kanan. I know he’s a risk. I know it better than most. But this mission isn’t about recruitment anymore, at least not for me. I’m not sure what it is, but until we can figure it out, I’m asking if you’re all willing to do more. Go a little further.”

“So long as he doesn’t put on that mask and pick up that scythe of his, I guess I could put up with him and act friendly,” Zeb muttered after a pregnant pause, and Hera made a mental note that if Kanan ever worked with her or her crew, that weapon was staying behind. Hera turned her gaze to Sabine, and the Mandalorian shrugged.

“I don’t mind. It’ll also mean Ezra is around more.”

“And Proxy,” AP-5 added, even as Chopper gurgled something about AP-5 trying to turn the holodroid against him. AP-5 regarded the astromech. “As if you aren’t planning on doing the same.”

Hera smirked, amused by the various reasons her crew were willing to continue.

“Never in my life did I think I’d be given a mission to make nice with the Reaper and Rider,” Zeb muttered with a shake of his head. “What’ll be next? Imperials?”

“Let’s not call them that. They have names, and we should use them,” Hera said. “They can’t be the Reaper and Rider now anyway.” And if she and Ezra had anything to say about it, they might not be the Reaper or Rider at all, if they succeeded.

“Fair enough,” the Lasat agreed. “I’m still surprised by the way all this is turning out.”

“And I’m sure the situation will keep surprising us. All of us,” Hera said as she thought about that soft look Kanan had on his face as the mission ended. Coming off her conversation with Ezra, seeing it had given her hope for him. Hope that maybe Kanan could be saved from whatever darkness was clinging to him. That he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t still look like that. “In the meantime we’ll search for missions and keep offering them. We’ll also keep an eye out for the Empire, in case they’re looking for us.”

“So you think Kanan will get in contact with us again? Ezra wouldn’t give me any definite answers,” Sabine said, and Hera thought of her and Ezra’s plan, and the warm way Kanan’s hand had slid along her own in farewell before he’d left. The way it had almost lingered.

“I think we will,” Hera replied as she looked back at the spot the  _Kasmiri_  had vanished from just a short while ago. “Besides, I know where their base is. They aren’t getting rid of us that easily.”

“I bet the Reap-Kanan, sorry, is just going to love that,” Zeb said sarcastically as he left the cockpit, and soon the others followed suit. Soon it was only Hera in the cockpit with the light of the stars shining down on her.

Hera smirked as she thought of what Zeb had said. “The Reaper won’t,” she said to herself as she settled in her chair, hope giving way to confident energy as she thought about the future. “But again, we’ll see about Kanan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we are! Answers. Some of you were so close and it’s been all I can do to keep my mouth shut and not spoil it for months now. Yes. Blackbird!Kanan made a Force weapon that he’s shoved his anger into so much it has enough strength to manifest. I got the idea from something I read in Legends. Turns out Sith weapons can do crazy things like that, and I figured a young Caleb terrified of losing himself to the darkness might be clever enough/trained enough to figure out a way to put his darker emotions somewhere else until he could properly deal with them, so he wouldn’t turn dark side. I almost took the darkblade route but figured I’d just get groans of disappointment. I tried to be creative here.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it answered a lot of the questions you’ve had. I’d love to know what you thought about it! No hints about what’s coming out next Friday, but there will be a post.


	20. Time

The milk run, much to Kanan’s surprise and initial displeasure, turned into another mission with Hera and her  _Ghost_  crew, and then another and another. Since he and Ezra couldn’t operate as the Reaper and Rider without bringing the entire Empire down on their shoulders in a dogged manhunt, the only option available to them was to stick with their personal aliases. They still needed to make a living, and it amazed Kanan how skilled Ezra and Hera were at finding gigs that had a big enough payout for both their teams, so long as they worked together.

Granted, these missions often called for a large crew, and those were often heart pounding and adrenaline filled — he’d be lying to himself if he claimed he didn’t enjoy them. But there were also smaller missions, missions that required smaller teams. These were made up of bits and parts from both his and Hera’s crews, and forced whoever was on the mission to work together. Get to know each other as more than just a temporary partner.

Whether anyone believed him or not, he wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on. He knew Ezra wanted to join the rebellion, and all these missions had to be his way of attempting to convince him that working with the rebels was a viable option. That Kanan shouldn’t immediately write it off, like he had at first.

Oddly enough, he couldn’t bring himself to stop them, or put an end to these unlikely partnerships when he knew he should. Not even when the missions continued like this for months.

* * *

 

“So you were gone for a while,” Ezra pointed out nonchalantly as Kanan strode into their base. The boy sat working on a new model of blaster, modifying a suspiciously familiar WESTAR-35. There was no denying his apprentice was fighting hard not to smirk at him as Kanan dropped his bag on the table.

Kanan didn’t miss a beat. “You knew I was on mission with Hera. We ran into some hitches along the way, so of course it took a while.” Just thinking of the Twi’lek made him remember the warmth of her lek next to his hand, of the feel of it against his thumb where he’d brushed it. The adrenaline of several reckless flights through Imperial space with Hera was still in his blood, and though he shouldn’t, he was savoring it.

“Whatever you say, Master.”

As Kanan left for his room, he saw Proxy perk up from where he’d been monitoring transmissions. He turned to Ezra.

“He looked like the mission went pleasantly.” His photoreceptors regarded the boy. “He should have more of them with Hera.”

Ezra smiled at Proxy. “You’re not wrong about that.”

Kanan didn’t know if he should scowl or smile at the idea of another mission with Hera.

He was smiling.

* * *

 

Kanan returned, disgruntled, a little charred and smelling sharply of electricity. As he passed his apprentice, the boy grimaced.

“Lasats?”

“Lasats,” Kanan growled as he threw off his ruined cloak and headed toward the baths so he could get the soot off and see just how much hair he’d actually lost.

Some light-years away, Sabine watched as Zeb boarded the  _Ghost_ , looking as if what little hair he had was splotched and burned. Ash clung to him, making him appear more gray than violet.

“Jedi?”

Zeb narrowed his green eyes at the Mandalorian as he passed her on the way to his cabin.

“Damn Jedi,” he agreed just as the door hissed closed. Sabine chuckled under her breath as she continued working on her newest masterpiece, sketching out the outlines for three new figures on the door of the  _Ghost’s_  spare cabin. With a delicate arch of her wrist she made them all smile.

* * *

 

The alarms finally stopped wailing and after flapping a hand through the smoke enough so Sabine could see him again, Kanan grinned.

“Fifteen!”

Sabine holstered both her blasters. He could see her grinning with pride from under her helmet.

“Twenty-seven!”

Kanan gave the girl a smirk as he shook his head and holstered his own blaster. Sabine was brilliant, and her aim was on point every time. He had to admit she was impressive.

But the game wasn’t over yet.

“That was only round one,” he called back after shifting the scope of his vision. “I think I’ll win the next round.”

“That’s what you think,” she replied daringly as she dropped her rangefinder. He waited for her to locate the small hoard of AT-ST’s. When she did, she looked at him. “You don’t have anything strong enough to take those down. Not on your own.”

Kanan chuckled before striding forward, careless as she was only moments before. He lifted his hand and felt the Force shift.

“Just stand back.”

* * *

 

Hera writhed above Kanan, the warmth of their breaths mixing in the tight space between them. His body was solid beneath her, warm, and she groaned when she found she couldn’t move anymore. Tired, she dropped her head to the juncture of his neck to give hers a rest.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Hera grumbled into the darkness, even as she felt his fingers dig into her waist.

“Ideas?” Kanan replied, his voice loud, amplified by the close walls that entrapped them. “I’m not getting any ideas.”

“I’m sure,” she muttered, even as a light blush tinged her cheeks at their compromising position. The box they’d accidentally become locked in jolted as the driver took a hard turn. She wondered if the box was going to flip again. “When Chopper gets us out of this, whoever’s driving is going to wish they’d never gotten behind the controls.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s been that bad.”

Hera didn’t need to say anything, not when the momentum of the next turn forced her knee high where it was lodged between his legs. She raised her eyebrow in response when she heard him groan in tight pain.

“Nope. Nope, you’re right.”

Hera snorted. “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

 

Zeb looked as if he was losing his mind as he hobbled through the barracks, and Ezra couldn’t help but snicker from where he watched from the safety of his room. Proxy dropped the image of a hooded Jedi, this round of pranking complete.

“Great job, Proxy. Do a Temple Guard next.”

“You know, I believe it’s only a matter of time before Zeb realizes what we’re doing.”

Ezra snickered again. Tormenting the Lasat was too much fun. There were no ghosts here, but if Zeb wanted to believe there was, then as a host Ezra should do his best to oblige.

“Of course he will. But until then, I want to see how long we can keep this up. Now, do the guard.”

* * *

 

“Hurry!” Sabine told him as she grabbed hold of Ezra’s arm and began dragging him up the wall, across roofs, higher and higher to the tallest vantage point they could find. The dark Lothal night extended all around them, the moons casting the faintest glow to illuminate the fields as the tall grasses gently waved in the wind.

“Now?” Ezra asked with a grin as he held the detonator in his hand, thumb over the button.

Sabine’s eyes were alight, even in the darkness. “Now.”

Ezra pressed the button and, in the distance, the small Imperial TIE landing platform exploded with light. Color painted the sky and his heart raced to see it as his wide grin matched hers. He gave her back the detonator, and as he did their fingers brushed. Ezra’s heart beat faster.

“All right, I’ll give it to you.” He looked at the explosion again, the dust and smoke writhing beautifully in the wind, interlaced with bursts of brilliant greens, blues, and pinks. “Your performance art is probably the best.”

Sabine grinned, her eyes gleaming with the light of the explosion. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

* * *

 

“Thanks Hera. I really appreciate you taking the time to teach me to fly properly.”

“I’m surprised Kanan hasn’t taught you. He’s not that bad of a flier. He’s given me a run for my money a few times, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Hera stood behind Ezra with a calm hand on his shoulder as she watched him handle the controls of the  _Phantom_  smoothly. When he’d started, he’d been rough and a bit jerky, and there had been no question that his technique needed work. But after an hour of practice with her, she had to say she was impressed by how quickly he’d improved.

“Oh, he’s tried,” Ezra admitted, looking over his shoulder at her, expression baleful. “Can you imagine how hard it is to learn to fly when he tries to teach you blindfolded and through the Force? He thinks it’s a better way.”

Hera stared at Ezra, then nodded to him in solid agreement.

“Point well made. Now don’t forget to lock the throttle for this maneuver right … there! That’s it. Perfect. Well done.”

* * *

 

Chopper, AP-5, and Proxy all watched their crews head out into the city. It wasn’t long before Chopper whooped to the others, attempting to convince them that they had the time for a very short jaunt into the market district. It was no secret between them that he was interested in a new, matching strut to replace his older one.

AP-5 sighed at the astromech, reminding Chopper of the important role they played in this mission, so long as they remained right where they were before looking to Proxy for support.

Proxy was simply pleased to be of wonderful use on this mission, and was of the opinion it might be beneficial if the old astromech had a better operating strut. It would surely increase the effectiveness of their part in the mission. With another put-upon electric sigh, AP-5 was already following them rather than getting left behind even if he was certain this was a terrible idea.

AP-5 wasn’t surprised when he’d been proved right, and the situation became abysmal. But between his superior processing, Proxy’s abilities, and Chopper’s gall, they developed an escape plan for themselves as they were chased through the market. And like it or not, Chopper  _had_  needed that new strut, even if he’d stolen it.

In the end, it had all worked out. Even if their crews hadn’t thought so when they themselves had to create an alternative escape plan because their original ones had decided they wanted to go window shopping.

* * *

 

As the months passed, Kanan rarely found the need to use his scythe. It sat in its sheath in the barracks ceiling, hidden for the most part, and safely out of reach of Hera and her crew. Out of sight. Forgotten, as the missions spent with Ezra and Proxy and Hera and the  _Ghost_  crew distracted his mind and kept his heart light. He was relieved.

But darkness grew there, seeped and slithered in its exile, and it was only the power of the Jedi temple nearby that kept the darkness of the scythe confined. Every day it was forgotten was another day it was at risk of weakening, and it was not pleased.

But though it was displeased with these recent developments, its abandonment, it was also patient. This wouldn’t work. It knew what the Twi’lek woman and the boy were up to, and it knew better because it knew Kanan better.

This … _break_ from Kanan’s usual behavior, the assassinations, the darkness, the anger, the pain … that was all it was. A break. Sometime soon, Kanan wouldn’t be able to resist his dark impulses or the siren call of the Reaper. And when he did, when he needed the scythe, it would be ready. All the light Kanan was surrounding himself with, drinking in like a dying man, it was nothing in comparison to the darkness in his heart. The darkness collected over years of suffering and sorrow.

The next time Kanan reached for the scythe it would prove to him that the light, it was fleeting. The darkness, it was there, always there, and it was strong. It would feed on his fear, remind him of his devotion to the craft. Show him the weakness he was surrounding himself with, and what the consequences would be if he continued to let his strength dwindle.

And when the scythe was done with Kanan, the man would never abandon it again. It would burrow so deep into his soul that these feelings of light, of love, of hope, they would _never_ touch him again. Only darkness would be there.

But Kanan would be powerful and strong. And it would remind him of that.

So until that day, it would wait patiently, quietly seething as it watched Kanan delude himself this these fantastical hopes for the future. Because that’s all this was. Delusion. And the day the scythe would shatter those delusions?

It was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a very short chapter compared to what I usually give you, and that I’ve clearly teased and glossed over moments and stories that could have been explored. Try to think of them, instead, as previews. For the fitness and flow of Blackbird, this chapter is supposed to represent an abbreviated snapshot of several months of time, and give the impression of growth and camaraderie between the two groups. But I have every intention of writing out each story. I’m just not going to do that here in this Blackbird document.
> 
> Instead, I’ll be making another fic under the title Blackbird: Time Missions, which is where I will post them. These one-shots are meant to provide depth, as opposed to plot, and I didn’t want to bog down the main story with nine consecutive chapters of what could be considered plotless ‘filler’. This way I’m not ultimately cheating the story, or you, if you’re wanting the depth. It’ll be there, just in a separate place. This does also mean I’ll be devoting my attention to these one-shots, once I start them in a few weeks. This’ll give us all a break from the angst of the main story, and give me the opportunity to write some happy(er) stuff before we move into the home stretch. 
> 
> Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought about this tiny chapter, and I would also love to know which of the previews you’re most interested in. Before I start the Time Missions, we’ve got another round of Origin chapters to go, which will focus on when Kanan meets Ezra. Also, remember way back when I said Maz would be making another appearance? Well ….


	21. Origins - Lothal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here’s the first of this three-part Origin cluster. Heads up, the angst is back.

Kanan took several steps into the quiet cantina and smiled.

“Hey, Maz.”

The small alien woman frowned at Kanan with magnified eyes as she cleaned her bar, and Kanan carried on as if he didn’t know she was looking at him with a heavy dose of disappointment. Using his walking stick, he pretended to find his way to an empty bar stool after accidentally disturbing another patron. The girthy Besalisk snarled at him in anger from where he’d been hunched over in drunken sleep. It was only once Kanan had taken a seat several places from the grumpy alien that he put his head back down on his upper set of arms and dropped off once more.

Maz eyed him as she approached from her side of the bar. “Kanan. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you.”

Kanan grinned roguishly in the direction of the elderly pirate, pulling out the old charm he used only with her. He’d first met her years ago, sporting the exact same grin and had used it every time he saw her since. He knew it did little more than make her roll her eyes.

“Don’t know what you mean.”

He lifted his eyebrows expectantly as he held his roguish charm, and though the old pirate’s lips pulled in a deeper frown, Kanan was pleased when he saw her wave to the bartender. He was careful not to let it show on his face until a mug of Maz’s infamous grog — a specialty she only ever bestowed upon friends or the unlucky, though which he was tonight was up for debate — was pressed into his hand, some of its contents slopping onto his dirty fingers.

“You better pay this time, boy,” Maz muttered lowly as she climbed on the counter to sit next to him, her eyes peering out into her bar. There wasn’t much to keep an eye on. This time of night — or morning as it was — most had either wandered away or dropped off as the angry one had over there. A few still lingered in the far and dark corners, but so long as no one bothered them, they were content to mind their own business. For all it mattered, it might as well have been him and Maz alone in the large room.

Kanan always made sure it was like this, before he ever came to Maz’s.

“Oh, come on Maz. We both know you keep an open tab for me.”

Careful to keep up appearances, he traced his fingers blindly up to the lip of his mug, hooking a finger over the edge to find the top of his drink. He swallowed a mouthful with a face, followed by a sigh of relief. He’d been waiting for this for weeks. He let his appreciation show on his face.

“That’s what you think,” she replied blandly as she reached over to pick up a dirty glass that she could clean with a rag to keep her hands busy. More quietly Maz said, “I heard about what happened on Arkanis. The new Imperial Academy that was recently built there? As I hear, it undertook severe damage which destroyed most of the compound. On top of that, it also appears the Imperial command team for the project were all found with their heads cut off. That sector is set back years now, because of the attack.” Maz looked at him again, angling her head so it was clear she was talking directly to him. “The Reaper was there.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kanan replied as he drank more of his grog. He’d been expecting this conversation. After all, he’d gotten the tip from Maz about the academy on Arkanis, and wasn’t it something that the young Imperial Academy there had been all but demolished a standard week later. Funny how things worked out like that. Especially when the Reaper was involved.

“The Reaper is bad news, boy,” the old pirate queen growled. Kanan sighed because this wasn’t the first time she’d voiced this particular opinion. It was growing in frequency, as a matter of fact. “Let him do his dirty work without you.”

He frowned in her direction, off shooting a little as the blind do.

“All I do is pass on information, Maz. Who hears about it and who does something about it isn’t my business. Besides, who doesn’t like someone who gives the Empire a headache?”

Maz’s old lips pursed at Kanan’s obtuse comment.

“He may be causing problems for the Empire, but his methods are questionable. His actions are wild and reckless, and if you are not careful, Kanan Jarrus, he will drag you down too. They will track him and then find you.”

Kanan’s eyebrows furrowed. The Reaper’s actions were anything but reckless. Maybe she was right about their … enthusiastic tactics, but the Reaper put more time into planning his missions than he cared to admit.

“I don’t know, Maz,” he replied with a shrug. “He seems pretty careful to me. From what I hear.”

“Then you are a fool,” Maz grumbled. “I’ve seen his type before. His actions are those of a man with nothing to lose and no care for his own survival. It may be the reason he is so successful, but it will kill him one day — perhaps even one day soon. I’m sure of it.”

“I think he’s more focused on the good he’s doing against the Empire—”

“And the Empire. You can bet that if I’ve noticed, then the Empire has as well,” the old woman carried on, cutting him off and silencing him in one strategic move. “They will set him up one day, and he will not survive.”

Maz’s prediction clung to the air, and she lifted two fingers to the bartender. Then she turned her attention back to him.

“As I said, he is careless. And he will bring you down as well.”

Kanan remained silent as he thought about Maz’s assessment of the Reaper’s work. There was no way she was right, but he couldn’t think of a single time the old woman had ever been wrong. It sat poorly with him and he held his mug between his hands as he thought. Was the Reaper being too reckless in the missions he took on?

Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to be questioning those actions. He needed information for a new mission. That was what he was here for. He’d think about Maz’s prophesy later.

“Have you got anything, Maz?” he asked quietly into his nearly empty mug before he finished it off with one final swallow. He put it down gently before accepting the second she pushed his way.

“I shouldn’t tell you anything,” she declared as she leaned back on a hand. “Not when I’m telling you he’s going to get you killed.”

“Maz.”

The old smuggler glared at him with narrowed eyes before she shook her head and reached for her cup. Maz took a slow, time-consuming drink; one designed to test his patience he knew. When she finally set it back down, the look she gave him was reluctant and disapproving. But it was also the look that told him she did have something to give.

“I hear there are problems arising on Lothal. Out in the Outer Rim,” Maz said softly. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Bridger broadcasts?”

Kanan nodded. He’d heard of the broadcasts and the couple behind them, Mira and Ephraim Bridger. As a matter of fact, he listened to the Bridgers whenever he had the time to spare. They were good people, doing what they could to fight for the galaxy in a way he never could. He always looked forward to their next broadcast.

“I think I’ve heard of them a time or two.”

Maz snorted as if she was aware he knew more about them than he was letting on, but she let it slip by as she always did. “I’ve heard talk that the Empire is out for them, under the pretense of stopping them.” She paused, then added, “In the next few days a raid will be conducted, and the Imperials have orders to kill on sight.”

Shock slammed through Kanan and he jerked his head in Maz’s direction.

“Kill on sight? That’s extreme, even for the crime. For what they’ve done, it would be more likely they’d be locked away in an Imperial prison somewhere. Not sentenced to death.”

The old pirate nodded in a way which told him she was not in disagreement. “You’re right, which is why I dug a little deeper. There’s something else driving the hunt. I don’t know what it is, but I think the Bridgers have something valuable the Empire wants. If you ask me, that’s the reason for the kill on sight.”

The Bridgers had something the Empire wanted? So much they’d kill them for it? In general that wasn’t exactly surprising behavior, but usually the Empire attempted a buyout before outright taking what they wanted. But killing for it? What could the Bridgers possibly have? The curiosity alone would have been enough to get him interested, but these were the lives of good people on the line. He wanted to do what he could to help them.

And perhaps, if the Reaper could get to them in time, he’d find out what the Empire was so willing to kill for.

Decision made, he finished his grog and slipped a few credits onto the bar. Maz swept them up with hardly a glance before she reached into her pocket and subtly slipped a datacard into the palm of his hand. Smoothly he tucked it away, but didn’t move to leave yet. Not when Maz started to speak again.

“When you first came here to my castle five years ago, Kanan Jarrus, you were just some brat falling over yourself and giving me a headache. But I thought you had potential.”

“Have I disappointed you, Maz?” he asked lightly as he stood, gripping his walking stick before turning to the door. She slipped from the counter to the floor and followed next to him like a grubby wise-woman seeing a stupid traveler out of her temple.

“I’m still waiting, boy.”

They got to the door and he paused just outside the threshold. The night air was balmy as it ever was here on Takodana, and the wind swept past his dirty hair like a caress. It was a breath of fresh air after the warmth of the cantina.

“You’re getting soft on me, Maz,” he teased with another roguish grin. “You don’t need to worry about me. It’s not like there’s a whole lot I can do given my disabilities.”

Maz stared at him, and not for the first time did Kanan feel the Force surge at her command. It was a small thing, but after a thousand years of life it was a sharp thing, and it directed itself according to her will. No one knew Maz Kanata was a Force-sensitive, but Kanan had been surprised years ago to find that she was, after she’d done the exact same thing to him then as she was now. Checking him. Trying to divine a suspected truth from him which she could never quite pin down.

Kanan knew she suspected that he wasn’t what he seemed. He knew she could sense it, somewhere deep in the Force, but before he’d ever come here to her castle he’d mastered the skill of Force stealth. Maz couldn’t feel a thing from him but the life force of a blind man.

Even so, he suspected Maz wasn’t convinced that he was an informant for the Reaper. He knew she suspected he was the Reaper.

And she wasn’t wrong.

But she found nothing, and once again he felt the Force slip over him quietly, unable to tell Maz anything she wanted to know or suspected. Eventually Maz said softly, “Just take care of yourself, Kanan.”

He smiled as he lifted his walking stick to detect the stairs before him before carefully making his way down. “Don’t worry. I only have number one to look after.”

“That’s part of my worry,” he heard her mutter to herself as Maz turned to go back inside, the door creaking closed behind her. Kanan paused long enough to track her, watch as she picked up a rag and began cleaning her tables as if their conversation hadn’t occurred. He turned and pretended to do the same.

Though there was plenty of space to leave the  _Kasmiri_ in the common landing areas around Maz’s castle, he never did. Kanan didn’t trust any of the other patrons to mind their own business, despite the pirate’s nonviolence rule. Instead, she was hidden deep in the forest away from everyone and their prying eyes. Once Kanan was sure he wasn’t being followed or tracked, he entered the tree line and dropped his blind act to move as he normally did. Twenty minutes later the  _Kasmiri_  came into view, and Proxy stood waiting to greet him.

“Welcome back, Kanan,” Proxy said as he boarded, polite as ever. The ramp closed behind them, ensuring safety and privacy. “Did your visit with Madam Kanata prove fruitful?”

“I think so,” Kanan replied as he unwound the dirty bandage from his face, stripping off his filthy blind beggar clothes while he was at it. Making the image of the blind beggar meant he had to be dirty enough for others who saw it to believe it. The devil was in the details and it never hurt to err on the side of caution. Unfortunately, that meant he hadn’t been clean in days. “I’ll tell you about it later. For now, plot a course to the Outer Rim. We’re headed to a planet called Lothal. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the fresher.”

“Of course,” Proxy agreed as he turned to take the controls of the  _Kasmiri_ , and a few minutes later Kanan was sighing with relief as the sonic beat the grime out of his skin and hair. He felt the ship lift as it left Takodana’s atmosphere before it made the jump to hyperspace. As wonderful as it was to feel clean again, his mind was already distracted and deep in thought by the time he slipped into the copilot’s seat next to Proxy.

“How long’s it going to take us to get there?”

“Approximately three days if we follow this route,” the droid replied helpfully, gesturing to the display. “I had to plot around Imperially controlled sectors, which has added time to the trip since it takes us out of the way.”

Kanan considered the route. Three days was a long time. If Maz was right, the Bridgers might be in danger sooner than that. If he wanted to help them, he needed to get there as soon as possible.

“How long would it take us if we passed through those sectors?”

“Roughly thirty-six hours, but I’d advise against it,” Proxy replied, voice hesitant. “It would bring us near areas reported to contain blockades and checkpoints.”

“We’ll work around them. Right now we need to get to Lothal as soon as possible.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Proxy said with a mechanical sigh as he began adjusting the instruments on the control panel. “I suppose I should prepare my Imperial templates, just in case.”

“You know it, Prox,” Kanan said with an approving smile. “Hopefully it won’t come down to it.”

“We’re never that lucky.”

Kanan shrugged as he stood to make his way aft of the ship before kneeling to meditate and think. Thirty-six hours wasn’t a whole lot to plan with, but he’d made do with much less before. The mission was straightforward though, so he wasn’t too concerned. The biggest problem would be getting to the Bridgers in time, and this was the best he could do about it. He just hoped it would be enough.

According to Proxy, they wouldn’t hit Imperial space for several hours, and that gave him some time to organize himself. He’d gone from his last two missions back-to-back and then straight to Maz. This was the first sizable amount of downtime he’d had in a while. Usually if he had this sort of downtime, he’d spend it training, or meditating, or sometimes tinkering with his equipment and weapons.

Particularly his scythe.

But even as he knelt, he found his mind distracted and riddled with questions. Points Maz had posed earlier now refused to leave him alone, as if the Force refused to allow him any mental peace until he explored them, much as he didn’t want to. Over the years, he’d come to understand himself and his connection to the Force well enough to know that there was no fighting this. It was better to confront the ideas and get it over with. He just wished it hadn’t been Maz to give him these questions. These ideas. If it had been anyone else, he’d have written them off.

But it had been the wise old pirate. And that made him uncomfortable.

It was the recklessness point which he found himself most drawn to. Was Maz right? Were his actions careless? Noticeably careless? He’d never thought so. He always put so much work into his planning. Yet, if he thought about it, how often did he stick to the plan? He’d planned thoroughly for the Arkanis mission, but nothing ever went perfectly, and so he’d improvised like he always did.

It was true, he’d taken some risks. Maybe he’d taken some dangerous ones too, but they always ensured his mission was a success. His actions always accomplished his mission.

But if he looked back on the last ten or fifteen missions … he had to admit there were times when he’d taken a more dangerous, reckless path when it would have been safer and easier to take an alternative. Of late, Proxy had become more anxious during their mission reviews, pointing out glaring alternatives that would have been more reasonable to have taken. Kanan always thought of it as Proxy being Proxy, the droid fussing over him because there was no one else to fuss over.

But what if he was wrong? What if Proxy legitimately had a reason to fuss? What if Maz was right, and he was taking these risks just because he could. Because there was no real reason for him not to, not even at risk of his own life? His sole purpose over the last six years was to harm the Empire as much as he could, in any way he could.

At twenty-one, he was getting pretty damn good at it. His reputation as the Reaper was beginning to circulate. He’d heard his codename whispered as far Nar Shaddaa, like legends. Like folk tales.

Like warnings. And sometimes, even like hope.

Kanan didn’t care anything about that though. He only wanted to do what he could to destroy the Empire. Beyond that? There wasn’t a whole lot he cared for. There wasn’t exactly room to care for anything, not when he was always moving, always trying to find new missions, always training. Every mission was a test of himself and his resolve, but he had to admit that of late … he hadn’t exactly cared what the outcome was for him, so long as his missions succeeded. If he was injured, he didn’t care. He’d heal. If he died? Well, he’d die doing what he vowed he’d do with his life. Proxy would take the  _Kasmiri_  to Maz, and both his droid and his ship would become hers. Simple.

Old Jedi tendencies rose in the back of his mind like a whiff of smoke, commenting like whispers that it would be such a loss of life. Of potential. Kanan shoved them away and ignored them. What did it matter anyway?

The only problem was that it did matter to him, in some way. Despite what might be a growing pattern in his behavior for the disregard of his own life and safety, people had died for him. And thinking of it in those terms, he wondered if he was becoming so reckless in his actions that they were all rolling in their graves. He knew they wouldn’t want this for him.

Kanan sighed as he rubbed his blind eyes. Maybe Maz had a point, but what could he do about it? Those final few comments in their conversation were telling enough. She thought he needed something or someone, but what she didn’t know was that that was the absolute  _last_  thing he needed.

People that got close to him, they died. In the six years he’d been Kanan Jarrus, he’d maintained only acquaintances and distant contacts. Maz might have been the closest person he knew, but he kept even her at a distance. His presence was dangerous to everyone, and he thought it was only by some good grace that he hadn’t lost Proxy in the three years since he’d found the holodroid on Raxus Prime.

Unbidden, an old, weathered voice whispered sound advice in his mind, advice he’d taken to heart when he’d first heard it years ago. Travel light, and death will never catch you. 

Well, he’d traveled light for years, and death hadn’t caught him since. And it certainly had never caught anyone he’d cared about because there was no one to catch.

But deep down, down where he rarely ever visited, the truth was that traveling light as he had … on one hand it was easy. He only had himself and Proxy to look after. The  _Kasmiri_  and the mission.

On the other hand, it was difficult and sometimes painful because he  _was_  lonely. Sure, he interacted with people because he needed to. Took on some evening company when he felt the urge. But he wasn’t fooling himself. They lacked depth and meaning. The method by which he led his life lacked depth and meaning.

But it was easier that he didn’t have those things, or at least, he’d thought so. When faced with Maz’s words, however, all he could think of were the faces of all the people who’d given their lives for him, and he was so filled with doubt. This wasn’t the life they’d wanted for him, he knew that, but what else was there? Should he risk forming a new relationship, maybe even a meaningful one, knowing it would bring with it an opportunity for death to strike again? Or did he continue as he had been, flirting with death. Waiting for the day it would finally take him too?

He also wondered if Maz was also right about the possibility of the Empire getting wise enough to design a trap that would exploit what might be suicidal carelessness. He would die, and what then? What would be the point of that? Would it even be worth it?

The Force felt hollow at the question, as if to give him its opinion, and he sighed again before he gave up and headed to his bunk. The gentle hum of the  _Kasmiri_  filled his ears and his mind, and his Force sense gentled as he watched hyperspace fly by like a current. An unstoppable current, one which he sometimes wondered went on forever.

As he dropped off, he continued to play with the idea that maybe Maz had a point and he did need a reason, if only to stop him from accidentally killing himself. Half-jokingly and half-serious, he decided he’d make a personal deal with the Force. If it gave him a reason to stop with his reckless nonsense, then he would. Whatever that might mean, whatever that might entail, he would do it. It was a promise.

But if not, well, then he wouldn’t. And that would be all she wrote.

* * *

 

Kanan was more than a little pleased when they made it through Imperial space with only one incident and a single detour. The incident had resulted in the destruction of two TIE fighters on patrol, and the detour had avoided the possibility of combat only because of Proxy’s clever Imperial holoprojection. He’d managed to take on the form of an Imperial in a large data file a contact had sliced and sold to Kanan.

The ruse had worked perfectly, but they’d both agreed it would be better not to test their luck, and go a little out of the way. Proxy had been visibly relieved when he’d let the projection of the impersonated Imperial go. The droid hated impersonating Imperials. Kanan sometimes suspected it had been the Empire who’d left Proxy in the mangled state Kanan had found him in. But the droid’s memory was blank, and so all he could do was speculate.

They were only a few hours behind schedule when Lothal appeared before the  _Kasmiri’s_  viewport. Using the information Maz had prepared for him and whatever he’d been able to collect on the way, Kanan directed Proxy to put the  _Kasmiri_  down far outside Capital City. The Imperial presence here had grown over the past few years, and he didn’t want to risk bringing his ship any closer. He’d have to ride in.

“Will you be requiring your gear?” Proxy asked after they’d landed, concealed by several large rocks jutting out of the lengthy plains which covered the planet’s surface. Dusk was setting and Kanan was eager to get going.

“No, Prox. I don’t think the Reaper will be making an appearance yet.” He shrugged on a dark traveler’s cloak, common and forgettable, before he put on a pair of goggles and began unloading his Joben T-85. “I’m just a traveler in town for a drink. Just passing through.”

Even as he said this, he glanced a little longer than he needed to at his Reaper gear where it remained safe and concealed in a special compartment designed for smuggling. From where he was, he could feel a waft of heat curl toward him, enticing, and he frowned as he pulled his attention away.

Truth was, he wanted to take his gear, put it on like a beloved layer of skin. Take the scythe hidden there and feel its strength beneath his fingers. But until he knew more, until he found the Bridgers and assessed the situation, there was no reason for it. Not yet at least.

Soon he was riding hard across the plains toward Capital City. It was dark now, late in the evening, and that was good. Once he figured out where the Bridgers were he’d be able to keep to the shadows before he found a way to convince them — and then smuggle them — off planet if the Empire hadn’t found them yet. But the closer he drew to the city, the more … unsettled he became.

Something was wrong in the Force, and whatever it was quickly put him on edge. Twice he considered going back for his gear, but decided speed trumped power this time. Some dark taint was in this city. In the Force. It billowed and writhed like a deadly flag twisting in hot wind, and Kanan clamped down on his Force stealth as he realized what it was.

Dark side. There was a darksider here in Capital City and ice began to form in his gut. This was too coincidental. The Bridgers were being hunted and there was a darksider somewhere in the city?

What did the Bridgers have?

Kanan didn’t have much time to think about it. Not when, shortly after entering the city, a great explosion lit the air and shook the ground nearby, followed by blaster fire. The chaos that erupted around him as civilians screamed and ran for cover cleared his mind of all useless thoughts and he hid his bike and vanished into the darkness. Moving quickly through shadows and over the rooftops, he could see where the violence shown bright in the Force, like a beacon.

He wasn’t surprised when he felt the presence of the darksider emanating from there as well. Kanan didn’t doubt that that was where the Bridgers were. Pausing for the briefest of moments, he closed his eyes and focused on his Force sense. His scope of sight expanded, extended, sketching the distant scene before him in real time. With a heavy heart he saw what was happening.

A darksider was there all right, an Imperial Inquisitor, and he stood over the fallen body of Ephraim Bridger. Kanan closed his eyes though it did nothing to stop his Force sight.

He’d been only moments too late.

Ignoring the guilt which threatened to wrap around his heart, he instead focused his attention on the Inquisitor. He watched as this tall, singed man began walking through the wreckage of what had been a home, stepping through the fire-edged rubble as if searching for something.

Or someone.

Guilt vanished in an instant and was replaced with determined hope as he changed the scope of his sight to instead scan the rest of the area. Mira Bridger wasn’t there. He saw no mangled body in those ruins. That meant she had to be somewhere else.

And that meant he could find her. He might still be able to save her and whatever it was she had in her possession.

With his Force sense cast like a net, he burst into a sprint when he found a running woman followed by a couple of stormtroopers only a few streets away. A plan blossomed into his mind and, channeling the Force, he leapt and covered distance fast enough that he was now ahead of the group, just above. As Mira dashed between two tall buildings into the narrow passage between them, the troopers following with their blasters raised to shoot, Kanan leaped down like a deadly shadow.

With his own blaster, he shot them with a pair of well-aimed bolts before he crashed into them. The collision sent them sprawling, but he heard the tell-tale sound of bones cracking. He felt their presence in the Force fade. Quickly, he rose to his feet and turned to face the terrified woman.

“Mira Bridger,” Kanan said as he slowly neared her. “You’re in danger from the Empire. I’m here to help you. We need to go.”

The woman’s face was ravaged by pain and Kanan was caught off guard when she abruptly collapsed to the ground. A terrified, young cry filled the air and Kanan stood frozen as a child crawl out from the woman’s arms. Small hands shook her urgently as tears streaked down his cheeks.

A child. A boy. The Bridgers had a son.

It was as if Kanan’s mind had been put on pause as he reeled to make sense of what was before him. A child. He hadn’t known that. None of the data Maz had given him even suggested a child, and his presence here was beyond startling.

But that wasn’t the only thing that made Kanan freeze. Mira Bridger was going to die. He could see it clear as day in the Force. Too many bolts of blaster fire had found their mark, and there was a long, diagonal burn across her back which he knew had been made by a lightsaber weapon. She didn’t have long. Again, he’d come just a little too late.

“Hey, you there!”

Kanan instinctively burst into motion as the Force flooded him. He sprang, dodging blaster fire before leaping forward and, with focused determination he reached with the Force and pulled the stormtrooper that had found them telekinetically into his waiting fist. The man fell back and with the Force Kanan lifted the trooper into the air, only to hurl him against a wall. The force of the maneuver caused the stormtroopers presence in the Force to flicker away, and his body went lifeless as it struck the ground. Behind him, the boy whimpered and shook, and Kanan felt Mira Bridger’s life force dwindle.

Checking as he should have before he’d frozen like a fool, he saw that for now he’d taken care of all the Imperials in the area. But more were on their way. The Inquisitor was on his way, and that meant he needed to hurry. He didn’t know what he could do about the firestorm he’d all but flown into, but he sensed that he didn’t have much time if he was going to do anything at all. Quickly he holstered his blaster before he knelt beside the dying woman and her son.

“Mira Bridger?” Kanan said her name softly and eyes rolled his way.

“You … you’re a—” Kanan knew what she was going to say before she said it, and he cut her off.

“I came here to help, but I came too late.” There was no hiding the dark tone in his voice, nor the knowing comprehension of the woman’s fate in her own eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You cannot help me,” Mira said brokenly. “But you can help him.” Her hold on the boy’s hand tightened in emphasis. “Please,” the dying woman begged. “Please, take care of my son. Please save him.”

Kanan stared at the woman with blind eyes she couldn’t see, surprise etched on his features, but she gave him a desperate look before reaching with her empty hand to take his. The child was crying hard on her lap, creating haunting echoes in the narrow alley. It was infinitely loud to his senses, and Kanan knew it wouldn’t be long until others heard it. If that happened, he might be forced to reveal himself, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“I’m not the one you want taking care of your son,” he said softly, doubt and uncertainty filling his mind at the sheer implication of what she was asking of him. Kanan suspected that she was begging him because she’d seen him use the Force, and what better protector for an orphaned child than someone like him? But she was wrong. He was not a good choice for that exact reason. “I can get him somewhere safe, but that’s it. My life is dangerous.”

“And so is his,” Mira pleaded. “The Empire is after him because he’s a Force user, like you. His midi-cholorian count is high and they’re trying to kill us to take him since we wouldn’t give him up.”

Surprise flew through Kanan as he snapped his attention to the boy and was floored to find she _was right_. This little boy had the Force flowing strongly through and around him, and before he could stop them, Kanan’s thoughts were dominated by memories of the past. By Order 66, by what had happened to Master Billaba, to him, to the whole Jedi Order. Memories he’d thought he’d buried long ago came to the fore, and he found that he couldn’t shake them off.

What would happen to this boy, if the Empire took him? Would they kill him as they’d done every Jedi they encountered? Or would they do something much worse? Would they instead pervert his mind and train him in the ways of the dark side? Would they turn him into a weapon of the Empire? Would this boy become the next generation of Inquisitor?

Suddenly he knew what the valuable object the Empire had been after the Bridgers was, and why there was an Inquisitor here at all. This small, Force-sensitive little boy, who’d just lost his father and was now losing his mother. He was it, and the Empire was on its way to having him.

Kanan found the idea was too repulsive to comprehend, more uncomfortable than Mira Bridger’s desperate request. He might not be much of a Jedi anymore, but he couldn’t let something like that happen. He couldn’t let a child be corrupted by the Empire and used in such a terrible way. He _couldn’t_. Not when he could do something about it.

His response was already out of his mouth before he had another chance to think about it.

“I will take care of him,” he promised as he clasped her cool hand in his, wanting to do everything he could to provide her with this one final thing of comfort before she died. “I will protect him from the Empire and keep him safe.”

“Will you teach him the ways of the Force?” she asked weakly. “To become a Jedi?”

The request floored Kanan, but it was one he had to consider since he’d just agreed to take care of the boy. It would be a matter of time before this child’s skills began to manifest, and he would need someone to mentor him and teach him control or he was going to become a target and attract Jedi hunters. The boy would need someone to teach him and guide him.

But how could it possibly be him?

“I’m not exactly a Jedi anymore,” Kanan told her, brows furrowed as he willed her to see. “I’m not sure I can do what you ask.”

“I have faith in you,” Mira whispered, honest and true as she struggled with the last of her life. “I can see the good in you. So please, I beg you, teach my son your ways. Help him become a light in these dark times. A Jedi, as best you can. Please.”

Kanan was at a loss for words because the path he walked was not one wholly Jedi, but before he even realized he was doing it, he was nodding and his voice quietly filled the air. “I will do as you ask, to the best of my ability.”

And now he would because he’d given his word to this dying mother. Agreed to take care of, train, and protect a vulnerable child. He was sure this was a mistake, but it didn’t matter now if it was or not. He’d given his word.

Tears leaked weakly from Mira’s eyes as she whispered, “Thank you.” Her body wilted with relief before she turned her eyes to the young child. “Ezra.”

The boy, Ezra, cried harder but moved to obey his mother. Mucus ran from his nose and saliva slipped from the edges of his mouth as sorrow displayed loud and clear on his face and in the Force.

“Mom?” the boy asked in a wrecked voice as he clenched her hand and knelt over her. “The troopers shot dad. Why? Why did they shoot him? What did he do wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said softly, her words cut off by a sudden coughing fit that made Kanan’s heart sink. “They were coming for you, Ezra, and we fought to keep you safe.”

“Why were they coming for me? Why’d that Red Blade—!” Ezra choked on his sobs as he clung to his mother’s hand. She smiled softly at her son, and Kanan felt her heartbeat slow from where he knelt.

“Because you’re special, Ezra, and the Empire wanted to take you because of that.”

“I don’t want to be special!” the boy cried. “I just want things to go back to the way they were! I want you and dad—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” she said, even as tears continued to slip down her cheeks and onto the ground, mixing with her blood. “But it can’t be anymore. I need you to listen very carefully to me, Ezra. Can you do that for me?”

The boy hesitated, clearly aware that his mother was moments from death. Agonized, Ezra finally nodded, and there was love in her eyes.

“That’s my Ezra,” she praised softly. “This man has agreed to protect you and keep you safe from the Empire. He will … he will teach you to use that specialness you have, and to use it for good. You … you must listen to him.”

Ezra’s eyes flashed up to Kanan’s and Kanan nodded solemnly. He would do as Mira Bridger asked, and the boy should know that from the start.

“I’ve already promised,” he said. “You have my word, Ezra, I will do everything in my power to protect you and train you in the ways of the Force.”

“The Force?” the boy echoed uncertainly before he looked down at his mother again. “I … I have the Force? That’s my specialness?”

“Yes,” his mother whispered weakly. “Go, Ezra. You don’t have much time.” Her life force flagged, and before Kanan realized it, he had a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. Ezra trembled in anguish.

“No, mom, no! I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave!” Frantically Ezra looked up at Kanan and begged. “Please do something! Use the Force to save her!”

Kanan felt as if his stomach was lodged in his throat. He couldn’t. That was the simple and honest answer. There was no way he could use the Force to save Ezra’s mother. There wasn’t anything in the galaxy except a miracle that could save his mother, and Kanan wasn’t sure miracles existed. Not after Order 66. Not after … everything. But before he could figure out what he could possibly say to Ezra, his mother caught the boy’s attention again with a soft shake of her head.

“The Force cannot save me now, Ezra.” She choked. Blood ran thick from her lips. A pained sound slipped from Ezra’s throat as he fell silent. Her eyes flicked up to Kanan’s and with the last bit of firmness she could muster, she said, “Take my son, now.”

The Force washed over Kanan as he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling it. Listening to it. She was right. Now was the time, and they needed to go now, or they might not leave at all.

“Come, Ezra. She’s right,” Kanan said gently as he turned the boy to face him. “We need to go.”

Ezra struggled. “But—!”

“Ezra,” his mother whispered, and they both fell silent in time to hear her final breath. “I love you.”

And then she was gone. Kanan felt her passing in the Force.

And he knew that Ezra had too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Ezra an orphan in a sudden and horrible way (I'm a vile monster, I know). Poor, sweet child. It's so hard hurting him. Anyway it feels weird and crass to say I hope you enjoyed this chapter, given what happened and the way it ended. Instead, I’d love to know what you thought. 
> 
> The next chapter will follow hot on the heels of this one and will be posted next Friday, as usual. I wonder how Kanan’s going to handle this new development? After all, he made a promise not only with Ezra’s mother, but with the Force too ...


	22. Origins - Ezra Bridger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update! I had a bit of a burnout half-way through editing this chapter and needed to take a break. I’m feeling much better now, and I should have the third part of this origin cluster up by the end of the week. As always, [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/) is the best place to check for updates. Enjoy!

Wide-eyed, the boy shoved Kanan off with an anguished cry to kneel at his mother’s side. But there was no life left in those soft eyes, and her blood pooled around her like a dying shroud. With shaking hands, Ezra touched the side of her face, tentatively before a sob ripped from his throat and he threw himself on her body. Kanan worried he would have to pry Ezra from his mother’s body when Ezra gave her one final embrace before standing and turning to Kanan. Tears rained down his cheeks. He kept trying to wipe them away only to leave red streaks of his mother’s blood across his face.

“We need to go,” Ezra wept, his words broken and sharp before he toppled forward. Kanan immediately caught the boy before he hit the ground and swept him up into his arms. There, Ezra clung to him, crying harder as he trembled violently. Kanan forced himself not to think. There simply wasn’t time right now, and he held the boy tight against him as he focused on moving. They needed to get to the  _Kasmiri_  now.

Sweeping up his comlink, he said, “Prox, I need you to get the  _Kasmiri_  ready. I’ll be there soon.”

“Of course. Just so you know, while you were out I was able to slice into Lothal’s Imperial channels and—”

“Not now, Proxy!” Kanan barked. “Just be ready. I might come in hot.”

“I understand. Would you like me to assist?”

“For now, no. But be ready. I’ll let you know if the situation changes.” Uneasily, Kanan added at the last moment, “And prepare for two incoming.”

Before the droid could respond, he thumbed the comm off and dashed for the end of the alley when a light fell on him. The muzzles of two blasters held by a pair of stormtroopers were aimed at his face.

“You! Halt! What are you doing here?”

Ezra flinched at the static sound of the stormtrooper and Kanan’s jaw tensed as he addressed them, his free hand raised as if in submission.

“You need to trust me, Ezra,” Kanan whispered to the boy as a plan unfurled within his mind. “I will get us out of this, but I need you to stay still.”

He didn’t know if Ezra understood, but the small body held him even tighter. Kanan hoped that meant he did. In truth, it left him feeling uneasy — all of this did. It would have been something else to fight these troopers if it had just been him, but no. A child depended on him now, and of all the plans he’d made in his life, he needed this one to work.

“I heard this boy crying and I came to take a look,” he told the troopers. “Someone’s murdered his mother.”

Ezra sobbed brutally in his arms, his anguish rocking the Force, and Kanan clutched the boy. The raw emotion was everywhere, unsettling him. Kanan resolutely focused on his breath and the muzzles of the blasters aimed at them, rather than risk being overwhelmed.

“That’s none of your concern,” the lead stormtrooper said, moving forward with the blaster still raised. “Give us the kid and we’ll let you go.”

They wouldn’t. Even through the miasma of emotions that swelled around Ezra, Kanan could feel the troopers through the Force. They had every intention of killing him once they had Ezra. Ezra froze suddenly, his sobs shuddering to a halt.

“No they won’t,” the boy croaked against his neck. “They want to kill you.”

Kanan was impressed, but this wasn’t the time. Not when he felt the cloying heat of the Imperial Inquisitor also growing stronger. Closer. Not good. He had to make this fast.

He waited for the stormtroopers to draw just a little closer before he finally made his move. Pressing into the Force, he waved his hand to snag their attention so his Force persuasion would take.

“You found the child,” Kanan said, allowing the hypnotic tone of his voice to sink into their minds. “He was dead when you found them.”

Kanan waited as the persuasion sank into both troopers, and they slowly lowered their blasters. Coming to a hypnotic stop, the one in the lead looked over at his comrade and sighed. “Kid’s dead. Nothing we can do.”

“Kriff. Captain’s going to have our heads for this,” the other replied. Before they could do anything else, Kanan snapped his fingers and recaptured their attention with another suggestion.

“Burn the bodies so it appears they have been incinerated,” Kanan commanded. “She stole a grenade from you. You’ll think it was the mother’s last stand.”

Kanan jogged away as one of them pulled out an incendiary grenade and prepared it for detonation. Kanan slipped around the corner and sprinted down the street into a far alley. Darkness consumed them, and Kanan felt the stormtroopers run.

A second later an explosion thundered through the air, and Ezra screamed.

“It’s all right,” Kanan urged as he curled the child against his chest and plunged deeper into the darkness to avoid a clutch of stormtroopers on their way to check the explosion. He felt the Inquisitor’s anger and alarm. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down. We’re not safe. Not yet. Can you do that?”

The child began crying again, his emotions thick in the Force like a beacon. Kanan knew it would only be a matter of time before the Inquisitor would pick them out and start the hunt again. If Ezra couldn’t calm down, they would be found. But it was too much to ask a child to let go of his emotions when he’d just witnessed the deaths of his parents. When the life he’d known was over. Ezra wasn’t trained. He couldn’t … he couldn’t just hide them away like Kanan could.

Kanan would have to make him.

“Ezra, look at me.”

The boy raised his face to Kanan’s, eyes thick with tears and Kanan once again lifted his hand and sharpened his intent in the Force.

“Sleep.”

The boy’s eyes rolled and he collapsed limp against Kanan’s chest, submitting to the persuasion. Instantly the thick swell of emotions in the Force abated to what would be considered normal levels, and Kanan adjusted the boy in his arms. He wished it hadn’t come to that, but he’d deal with any fallout or guilt or shame later. Survival first.

The putrid heat of the Inquisitor appeared at the destroyed alley, and Kanan waited a moment to see if the Imperial had fallen for the ruse. A whip of rage swept through the Force in response, followed by grudging disappointment. That was enough for Kanan. He turned and moved fast, carefully tracking all the stormtroopers in the area as he plotted his way back to his Joben.

Thankfully it was right where he’d left it and, after settling Ezra’s body in front of him, Kanan gunned it and they streaked out of Capital City and into the plains of Lothal like swift shadows. When he was far enough away and sure no one was following, he began to slow down. His mind, unfortunately, refused to do the same.

In the span of an hour, not only had Ezra Bridger’s life changed, but so had his. Radically. He had a child who depended on him now and, on top of that, Ezra Bridger was a Force-sensitive who needed him if he was to survive in this terrible galaxy.

Sardonically he realized he’d gambled with the Force and now he was paying the price for his foolish bet. It had provided him with a reason to take his life more seriously, and the promise he’d made to Mira Bridger only cemented that fact.

His skull felt crammed full with thoughts and ideas and worries, one piling after the other as if he were being shot rapid fire with them. What was he going to do? What about his missions? What would he teach the boy? Who would take care of him while he was away? Where would he keep Ezra? Could he find some way out of this? How did you even raise a child?

Kanan didn’t know. As a twenty-one-year-old assassin and thorn in the Empire’s side, children had never been something he’d considered. Right now, all the mental power he had was devoted to simply driving and getting back to the  _Kasmiri_  and getting off Lothal. He couldn’t think about everything right now. Later.

He hoped later took its sweet time getting to him.

Kanan’s relief was palpable by the time he sensed the silhouette of his ship. Proxy had already dropped the ramp and was waiting patiently by the time Kanan slowed the speeder to stop. Ezra’s body shifted against his, a warm weight still held under by Kanan’s Force suggestion. He motioned Proxy closer.

“Here, get him settled on the spare bunk.” Carefully he lifted the boy and placed him into Proxy’s arms. Ezra made a pained, discomforted face but thankfully his eyes didn’t open. Proxy turned his photoreceptors to the boy whose arms now curled around the droid’s neck, then to Kanan.

“Kanan, I do not understand.”

“I’ll explain everything once we’re off Lothal.” He began pushing the speeder up and onto the waiting rack inside the ship after Proxy. After checking the bike was secure, he activated the ramp and headed to the pilot’s seat.

Within moments he had the  _Kasmiri_  up in the air. As Proxy settled the boy in the back, and once they’d passed through the atmosphere into space, he plugged in hyperspace coordinates and made the jump. Relief radiated through his body.

Proxy joined him in the copilot’s seat and, safe within lightspeed, Kanan finally sighed and stripped off his goggles. He ran his fingers through his hair as he chose his words carefully.

“That boy’s name is Ezra Bridger. He’s the son of Mira and Ephraim Bridger. He’s … he’ll be staying with us from now on.”

Proxy’s holoprojectors flickered with surprise. “I was trying to tell you earlier, Kanan. I’d tapped into the Imperial channels on Lothal. I’d heard about what had happened to the Bridgers. I’d also heard there was an Inquisitor in the area.”

“There was,” Kanan told the droid as he recalled the uncomfortable presence of the darksider that had killed Ezra’s parents. “He was after Ezra.”

The holodroid’s head tilted for a moment before suddenly straightening. “He was what the Imperials were after, wasn’t he? The data would suggest he’s a Force user, like you.”

“Spot on, Proxy,” Kanan agreed with a flash of a grin he did not feel. “He is.”

 _And now it’s my job to keep him safe._  The thought swelled through his mind and he ran his hand through his hair again before pinching the bridge of his nose right below the scarred part where he could feel. _He’s my responsibility now. I have to keep him safe._

With Ezra asleep as he was, Kanan couldn’t help but hope the boy never woke up. If he never woke up then they could all pretend that none of this had happened. That none of this was real. That he hadn’t just … just agreed to take in an orphan, and then agreed to train him.

Force, what had he been thinking? He was the Reaper. What had he just done? All the questions that had plagued his mind earlier now returned with a vengeance, and more than anything he wanted them to just … stay at bay. At least for a little while longer. Give him some space to get his thoughts in order, get himself in some sort of order, before he had to face those questions and give them answers. For the time being they were safe and Ezra was sleeping. Give him until the boy woke up to let him breathe.

Just until then.

* * *

 

Kanan pulled out of his meditation when he felt the first brushes of consciousness flutter within Ezra Bridger. He moved quickly, intent on being with the boy as he woke up so Ezra wouldn’t be frightened to have fallen asleep hunted on Lothal, only to find himself on an unfamiliar ship in the middle of open space.

While he’d been sleeping, Kanan had Proxy do what he could to clean the boy up — to get as much of the blood off him as he could. Though the boy needed a run through with the refresher, he at least wouldn’t wake up with his mother’s blood still on his hands. Carefully he took a seat next to Ezra and the boy gave a weak groan as his eyes fluttered.

Then he abruptly jerked, eyes wide with panic as he began to scream.

“Calm down, Ezra. You’re fine. You’re safe. You’re on my ship right now. Remember? I got you off Lothal.”

“Where am I?” Ezra demanded as he scrambled away from Kanan so that his narrow back was pressed against the wall, his panic in the Force doubling, tripling as his heartrate spiked. “Who are you? Why can’t I see anything? Where’s my mom?”

Kanan’s hands dropped slowly as it struck him that  _of course_  Ezra would react like this. Kanan had forgotten the lights. He never used light in the  _Kasmiri_ , never needed to since he could see without them and Proxy was equipped with night vision photoreceptors.

But Ezra was a young boy with working eyes, eyes that needed light. And he’d just woken up in terror and the shadow Kanan made, unidentifiable and foreign, must have been more than terrifying. For all Ezra knew he might have been captured by the Empire while he’d been asleep. How could he have been so stupid to forget the kriffing lights?

Kanan was off to a great start.

Forcing himself not to let his first failure color his voice, he calmly called out over his shoulder.

“Proxy, please activate the interior lights. We’ll be needing them from now on.”

“Of course,” the droid replied as he activated the lights, bringing them up from darkness to gentle twilight, and then a little brighter. “Is that enough?”

“That’s good,” Kanan said, watching as Ezra began to gradually calm now that the lights were on. He kept his attention on the boy and did his best to appear as non-threatening as possible. “You’re safe, Ezra,” he tried again. “I got us away.”

Though the lights were on and Ezra had stopped screaming, his body was still wrung like a coil. The look in his young face was afraid and distrusting.

“Who are you? Where’s … where’s the Jedi who—?” Ezra’s words choked off, and Kanan’s lips pulled into a frown as anguish rolled through the Force, telling him everything he needed to know about what Ezra remembered and what he didn’t. Though there were tears in the boy’s eyes, a hard look of defiance entered that broken gaze as Ezra clenched his small hands. “The Jedi promised my mom that he’d take care of me. Where is he?”

“That was me,” Kanan insisted patiently, feeling like he’d just stepped on another mine. “I was the one that … that promised your mother.”

“You’re lying,” Ezra hissed, his panic turning to anger. Fear and abandonment swam in his eyes. “You’re blind! He wasn’t!”

Kanan took a slow breath through his nose. “I’m not as blind as you might think.”

Kanan lifted a hand across to his own bunk where the goggles he’d used on Lothal lay. With the Force he drew them slowly toward his hand — so Ezra would be left with no doubt — before he pulled his hair back and put them on to face the boy.

Ezra gaped as his anger bottomed out and was replaced with a deep well of disbelief.

“You’re blind? But, everything you did back in Capital City,” the boy said in confusion. “You had to see! How could you do any of that if you’re blind?”

“I use the Force to see,” Kanan offered, wishing that would satisfy him. “My eyes don’t work, but the Force makes up for it.”

“I don’t get it,” Ezra said.

“It means that I see just as well as you do. I just can’t see colors the way you do and I don’t need light to get around,” Kanan filled out simply as he pulled the goggles off again. It was more intricate than that, but for now the explanation would do. “I use the Force to sense where everything is around me, and I ‘see’ in that way.”

“I still don’t get it,” the boy pressed as he shifted away from the wall, staring into Kanan’s milky eyes. “Your eyes don’t work, and the Force ….”

Ezra’s voice ebbed away as his eyes skittered to something over Kanan’s shoulder, and though he turned his head to look he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just Proxy waiting in the pilot’s seat as the stars of open space painted the viewport. Ezra continued to stare, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily, his eyes locked — though they took the briefest moment to flick at Kanan uneasily — before he scurried past and down the steps into the cockpit.

Ezra drew in a gasp as he gazed out the viewport with wide eyes, attention dominated. Kanan eased to his feet and stood beside the boy, careful to give him space. Let him take in this new environment piece by piece as Kanan figured out what he’d say next.

“You’ve never been off world?” he chanced, and Ezra shook his head.

“No,” the boy replied, eyes still on the stars. “I’ve never been off Lothal. Sometimes … sometimes we’d talk about it. A vacation one day, when I was older.” Kanan frowned as Ezra’s words dried up and his eyes began to water. His shoulders sagged. “I guess that’s not going to happen now.”

Kanan wanted to, but didn’t try to paint a brighter picture for the boy. It would be too cruel a thing to do to him after all he’d lost, and the future he was likely to lead. Instead, all Kanan could do was … well, he didn’t know. He didn’t spend a lot of time around children, and he hadn’t been one himself in a long time.

But watching Ezra’s shoulders tremble as he tried to stop himself from falling apart? He knew that wasn’t right.

“Come here,” Kanan said, taking Ezra by his thin shoulders and leading him to the tiny table in the crew quarters. The boy went without a word, sitting quietly, and Kanan sat in the neighboring seat. Kanan waited, either for Ezra to say something or for the Force to guide him through this, but between the two he received nothing except a sniffle and silence.

What had he gotten himself into?

“We … haven’t been properly introduced. My name’s Kanan Jarrus,” Kanan said, breaking the silence. “Over there? That’s Proxy, my droid.”

“Hello, Ezra Bridger,” Proxy said politely as he turned in the pilot’s seat.

“Hello,” Ezra mumbled, his chin tucked and his shoulders hunched as he addressed the holodroid. An awkward silence began to develop, and in the Force Kanan could feel the rise and fall of a dozen different emotions as they swept through Ezra. Rage, sorrow, fear, sick relief, pain, and some so fleeting Kanan couldn’t quite name in time. He waited. Waited for one to rise above all the others, waited for the sorrow to crest.

But Ezra surprised him by wrangling his sadness every time he was at risk of losing control. In the end what rose, to Kanan’s astonishment, was curiosity.

“So … what happens now?”

Kanan leaned back in his seat, then sighed as his body slumped in response.

“Honestly? Ezra, I don’t know. I didn’t … I didn’t exactly plan for this when I went to Lothal.”

Ezra’s hands began to wring in his lap as he went silent, and cold unease filled the Force. Kanan frowned at the boy’s response. That … that probably wasn’t anything Ezra wanted to hear. Ezra was clearly looking for some stability. A sure answer, since he had none right now.

He could give him that, couldn’t he?

“You’ll be staying with me,” Kanan tried again. “I’ll be taking care of you. But beyond that? I don’t know yet. I’m kind of making it up as I go. But I can try answering any questions you have so you can feel more comfortable. Knowledge beats ignorance, after all.”

Kanan frowned as part of the Jedi Code slipped out unconsciously, and Ezra gave him a quizzical look in response. He hadn’t thought about the Code in years, and suddenly it was asserting itself now as if eager to be revived. It made him uncomfortable how easily it had happened. Kanan did his best to recover.

“What I mean is, if you know more, you’re less likely to be scared,” he explained. “You have questions. I will do my best to answer them.”

“Oh,” Ezra said in response, but that was all he said. The boy fell silent. Now that Ezra had the ball in his court, it was clear he didn’t know what he should do with it. Ezra’s gaze flew around the ship, skittered over him and Proxy to the viewport, back to his own hands, and Kanan sighed. Was this … normal? For children?

He didn’t know, but if this kept up Kanan was certain Ezra would go mute.

“Would you like me to start off? Ask you a question?”

Ezra jerked his eyes up from where they’d fallen to his feet, and inwardly Kanan grimaced. Blood lingered as a dark spot on the cuff of Ezra’s pants. At some point soon, he was going to have to test if his cleaner was strong enough to get the stain out, or if he’d need to go out and get Ezra new clothes. The last thing Kanan wanted to do was accidentally remind Ezra of everything that had happened.

If the boy had been staring at it or not, Kanan didn’t know, but he gave Kanan a tiny nod.

“All right. Here’s an easy one,” Kanan said. “How old are you?”

Cool relief flared in the Force, and it was clear from Ezra’s face that he’d been expecting something much more difficult.

“I’m seven.”

Kanan gave Ezra a small smile in reward, even if internally he was reeling. The boy was seven? He was younger than Kanan had been when he’d lost everything. How was this child functioning like he was right now? Why wasn’t he breaking down when Kanan could feel in the Force that Ezra was a maelstrom of emotion?

Emotion he was clearly holding back, much like a younger, more innocent version of Kanan once had.

“Good,” Kanan said, hiding his discomfort. “Now you ask me a question. Whatever you want.”

Ezra eyed him uncertainly, but this time he said something.

“Is … is this your ship?”

“It is,” Kanan said, relieved Ezra had chosen an easy topic. “Her name is the  _Kasmiri_. This is my home.”

Shock flashed across Ezra’s face before it vanished. The boy took another slow look around.

“You live in this ship?”

Kanan nodded. “I’ve never really had a reason to put down roots. It’s never been advantageous for me to stay in one place, and I’ve never needed to.”

“So … I’m going to live here with you and Proxy?” Ezra frowned before adding, “It’s kinda small.”

Kanan wasn’t sure what to say about that. By all accounts, Ezra wasn’t wrong. The  _Kasmiri_  wasn’t big enough for two humans and a droid, not for living. Not comfortably anyway. Sometimes it felt like it was too small with only him and Proxy, and he was amazed sometimes that he and Kasmir had made it work between them for so long without murdering each other.

It struck Kanan that he might need to consider finding a place, somewhere permanent on a planet or a moon for them to settle down. The  _Kasmiri_ wasn’t a good place to raise a child. And Ezra would need the space and stability for his health and training. They both would.

Quietly he added it high on his mental list of priorities. The list had grown exponentially in the last day.

The awkward silence was creeping back in, and Kanan struggled like a fish out of water to keep it at bay. Kanan reached for a cup off to the side and then put some water in it from the dispenser. “Ask another question.”

More confident now, Ezra wasn’t as slow to voice his next comment.

“You’re a Jedi.”

Kanan kept his face blank. Not exactly a question or an easy topic, but at least there was a lot to unpack there. Unfortunately.

“Something like that,” Kanan corrected as he pressed the cup of water to Ezra. He didn’t know the last time the boy had had anything to drink, and he was pleased when Ezra took it between his hands. Kanan was also grudgingly unsurprised when Ezra made no move to drink it. “I was one a long time ago. Now? I guess Force user is a better term. I haven’t been a Jedi in a long time.”

“But mom—” Ezra’s voice broke off as the wave of sorrow rose and threatened to engulf him. Ezra’s eyes watered and he blinked rapidly before starting again as if he hadn’t said his mother’s name at all. “You said you were going to teach me to be a Jedi. Aren’t you? That’s what you promised.”

Ah, this. The very question Kanan had been meditation on before Ezra had woken up. Luckily, he did have an answer.

“I’ll teach you the ways of the Force, and how to survive. And I’ll do my best to teach you the ways of the Jedi. But only if you want me to.”

Ezra’s brow furrowed, and he held Kanan’s eyes for the first time since they’d sat down.

“What do you mean only if I want? You promised—”

“I did,” Kanan said, cutting the boy off. “And I will. But like I said, only if you want me to. The Force … the Jedi …” Kanan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, floundering. “Listen, Ezra. There’s a reason why the Jedi aren’t around anymore. There are reasons why I’m not one either.”

Ezra waited with hard eyes. “What reasons?”

Complicated ones? Painful ones? Dogmatic ones? Life-threatening ones? Where did Kanan even begin?

“Being a Jedi … it’s going to put a target on your back. A big one. I’m sure you know the Jedi were hunted down and killed?”

Ezra nodded.

“That Red Blade? That was an Inquisitor. His job is to hunt down Force-sensitive children like you so you can be made to do what he does, and hunt down Jedi and Force users like me. To kill us when we tell him we don’t want to do what he does. Being Force-sensitive like we are … it’s dangerous. Being a Jedi even more so, and for your own survival I don’t want you to just … jump into things.” Kanan ran a hand through his hair again, agitated when Ezra continued to stare at him. “Does that make sense?”

“Well … yeah,” Ezra said, his gaze dropping and the quality of the Force going cold. “After all that … Inquisitor. He killed my mom and dad to get to me, and we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Shame and guilt ate at Kanan. He hadn’t meant to … to remind the boy. Looking back, that was stupid and insensitive of him. Of course Ezra understood. He may be a boy, but he was clearly intelligent enough to understand how dangerous being what he was, was. His parents had been killed because the Empire wanted him, after all. It wasn’t as if he’d been able to close his eyes during that lesson.

“So you don’t think I should learn to be a Jedi?”

Though blind, Kanan looked away. Again, what did he say? He’d promised his mother, but what he’d promised was dangerous. He’d promised to take care of Ezra, but teaching him to be a Jedi was the exact opposite of what he should do if he wanted Ezra to be safe.

Kanan sighed and prayed what he said next was right. “I think you should learn how to control the Force. I think, if you’re going to survive, I have skills you need. Skills that will keep you safe. There’s a lot I can teach you.”

Kanan couldn’t help but huff a laugh.

“There’s a lot I need to teach you. And I will. But being a Jedi? That’s a choice you make on your own. And whatever you chose, I will do my best to help you. Just …” his words failed him as he looked at Ezra and wished he could make him understand what he wanted to say, without actually having to say it. “Just be sure.”

Ezra was quiet for a long time before he took a deep breath and looked back at his hands.

“Do … do I have to decide now?”

Kanan shook his head. “No. No, you don’t have to decide now. You can decide tomorrow, or in a week, or next year, or never. I will still teach you the basics of Force use. I will still teach you how to survive. I just won’t teach you their beliefs.”

Ezra’s head twitched in what Kanan hoped was a nod. He was relieved to feel something settle in the boy, a soft comfort at finding out he didn’t have to worry about this. Not yet, after everything that had happened.

Before the awkward silence could settle in a third time, Ezra lifted his gaze back at him. There was a timid edge to his voice.

“Were you … were you really on Lothal to save my mom and dad?”

“Yes,” Kanan answered honestly. “I’d heard the Empire was after your parents a couple of days ago. I was trying to get to them before they did.”

Now that his words were in the air, Kanan waited for it. The rage. The accusation. Why hadn’t he gotten to Lothal in time? Why had he allowed this to happen when he was a Force user? Why had he allowed this boy’s parents to die? Those were the questions a younger Kanan might have demanded of himself if he’d been in Ezra’s shoes. Those were the question anyone in the galaxy would have demanded.

But Ezra only sighed and nodded.

“Thank you for trying.”

Kanan’s throat felt like it had welded itself shut.

“I know … I know it’s too late to help,” Ezra mumbled. “But I think they were after someone else too. The Imperials.”

“They were after you, Ezra,” Kanan managed to force out. “They wanted you.” The Inquisitor’s presence was proof enough. From where Kanan sat, he could hear Ezra swallow before he gave a quick nod.

“I … I know. But I think they were also after someone else. The man in black … the Inquisitor? He said he was also there to spring a trap.” Ezra side-eyed Kanan before venturing a question. “Are you the Reaper?”

Kanan’s jaw tightened, and his stomach threatening to drop out of the  _Kasmiri_  altogether. For an instant, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard the boy right. But given the way Ezra was eyeing him, even the way Proxy had stopped what he was doing to listen in, Kanan knew he’d heard correctly.

“What makes you think that?”

“That’s what the Inquisitor said. When he came for me,” Ezra told him, looking down again. “He was hoping to catch two birds with one stone. That the Reaper might come.”

Icy dread rolled through Kanan’s chest, but he kept it well away from his face. That Inquisitor. He’d been there not only for Ezra, but for him too. This had been a trap. A trap designed to lure him in.

And he’d almost sprung it. Maz had been right.

“Are you him?” Ezra asked, starting to look more uncomfortable as the seconds grew into a long, tense minute.

Kanan regarded the boy, unsure how to proceed. Lie? Don’t lie?

“What if I am?” he finally said.

“I’ve heard of you,” Ezra admitted as if Kanan had confirmed the truth instead of hinted at it. “My mom and dad talked about you sometimes. They said you were fighting the Empire.” The boy fell silent, his hands twisting. Kanan arched a brow, sensing there was more.

“What else?”

“They … they said you were dangerous. They fought about you too. Dad thought what you were doing wasn’t good. That it was only causing more problems. But mom …” Ezra’s lip trembled as his voice grew hoarse and thick. Though it seemed as if he was on the verge of crying, the tears never came. Instead Ezra sucked in a jagged breath, then another before forcing himself to continue in a quick flurry of words. “She thought it was right. That though the violence wasn’t good, someone was doing something to help.”

Kanan resolved to keep his face blank.

“What do you think, Ezra?”

Ezra held his blind eyes, even as his thin shoulders began to shake.

“You came,” he said, his voice thicker than before. “You came to save my parents. And when you couldn’t, you saved me.” Ezra’s face was filled with agony and Kanan couldn’t have torn his attention away if he tried. “I’ve heard a lot of the stories about you. That you’re the Beheader. That you are death and you’re dangerous and that you kill for fun. Because you like it.”

Kanan’s lips pulled down at the sound of his less than savory names. He’d heard them and those rumors as well. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about them. If they didn’t hold some tiny bit of truth.

His thoughts vanished when fat tears finally rolled down Ezra’s face.

“But I d-don’t care!” Ezra sobbed, even as he tried to wipe his tears away at the same time. He wasn’t fast enough. They flowed. They overflowed. “You pr-promised my mom that y-you’d keep me safe. You promised to take care of me, and t-teach me to be a Jedi. You saved me from the Red Blade, and—!”

Whatever else Ezra was trying to say came out in a jumbled mess as his sobs grew more tortured and wretched with each devastating gasp for breath. The agony echoed in the Force, surrounding Kanan, pressing in on him even as the boy attempted and failed to pull himself together. To be strong.

Though Kanan had no idea what the right thing to do was, he could remember a boy maybe twice Ezra’s age who’d stood before a funeral pyre and tried not to break. He remembered what it was like to feel as if everything he’d ever known had been taken from him, like it just had for Ezra Bridger.

And he knew what he’d desperately wanted when he’d been on the brink of falling apart, before he’d let the anger in. Before he’d … darkened.

“Ezra,” Kanan said gently, reaching for the boy as he opened himself up in the Force. “Come here.”

Ezra sobbed again but threw himself at Kanan as if he’d been quietly begging the man to let him. Gangly arms looped around his neck as Ezra pressed in without reserve. Through the Force, through the connection he was making with the boy, he could feel every agony, experience every sorrow. And he ached for Ezra because it was so similar to his own ancient pains. It made Kanan’s heart clench because already he could feel the glowing coal of anger, of hate, building in the child. A fleck of vengeance, just waiting to catch and flame.

Insight — Force given or through hard-learned wisdom he didn’t know — told Kanan that if he didn’t do something, if he didn’t do his damnedest to help this boy, Ezra would turn out exactly like him. Empty. Hollow. Filled only with the fire of rage and vengeance toward the Empire.

The thought filled him with dread. This was a child. A youngling, younger than he’d been before his life took a nose dive. Old instincts in him rose, and even if they hadn’t, he knew his decision would have been the same.

He couldn’t let what happened to him happen to Ezra.

“Shh,” Kanan hushed into Ezra’s hair as he stroked the boy’s back. He held the boy tight enough he might bruise. As tight as Kanan wished someone could have held him, once. Tight enough to pretend that he might not fall apart. Tight enough to know he wasn’t alone. “I know. It’s okay. I know.”

It was as if Kanan had given Ezra permission to break because Ezra’s sobs turned to grief-filled wails, and he fisted Kanan’s tunic in his small fists. Ezra’s suffering ravaged him, and the boy shook with it. For someone so young, all the pain was new and sharp. It stung terribly like staring at an uncomfortably bright star, and it was made worse by the fact that Ezra had likely had a loving and peaceful childhood before the Empire had taken it all away. That he’d never experienced anything so horrible.

Now there was hurt and sadness. There was anger. Anger enough he thought he almost felt a matching tendril of heat rise from the hidden compartment where his scythe was concealed. It made ice shard around his heart and he held the boy protectively.

Kanan resolved not to let the anger consume Ezra, like it had grown in him. He would be there to help Ezra through this, however he could, because he couldn’t let what had happened to Caleb Dume happen to Ezra Bridger.

He couldn’t.

Eventually the emotional flood that overloaded the boy left Ezra limp and drained, capable of little more than occasional sniffles and a few shuddering breaths. Kanan knew this feeling. The boy was done for now. No more.

“You’re tired,” Kanan said as he held Ezra’s shoulders between his hands, pulling him away gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then food if you’re hungry—”

“I’m not hungry,” Ezra replied with numb aplomb and Kanan resisted the urge to sigh.

“Or sleep.”

This time Ezra nodded, and Kanan didn’t blame the boy for craving the soft shores of unconsciousness.

“Then let’s do that. Proxy will help you with the fresher and whatever else you need. I’ll look for some clothes for you to change into. All right?”

Kanan didn’t get a verbal response, but Ezra didn’t exactly let go of his tunic either. Not even when Proxy came up into the cabin. Kanan waited, and though Ezra looked up shyly at the holodroid, he still didn’t move.

“I won’t be far,” Kanan reassured. “All you’ll have to do is call, and I’ll be there. I promise.”

“But don’t worry, Ezra Bridger. I will do everything I can to help you in Kanan’s stead,” Proxy promised before he lifted a metal hand. “If you would come with me.”

Ezra cast an uncertain glance at Kanan, who nodded reassuringly. Slowly he let go and took Proxy’s hand.

“Could you call me Ezra?” Ezra asked Proxy, his voice still rough from the crying. Proxy’s fingers gently curled around the boy’s.

“Of course, Ezra,” Proxy replied in gentle tones. “This way.”

While Proxy took care of Ezra, Kanan found an old pair of soft pants and a shirt he hadn’t worn in years and handed them to the holodroid, taking Ezra’s in exchange. Studying them, he was certain they were unsalvageable. He’d have to find new clothes for Ezra, soon. Kanan’s old clothes wouldn’t work for long.

By the time Ezra was clean, he looked ready to fall into his bunk. But instead of doing just that, like Kanan had expected him to, he let go of Proxy’s hand. Drowned as he was in Kanan’s old clothing, Ezra almost tripped but made it to Kanan without incident.

Skinny arms wrapped around his middle as Ezra pressed his face into Kanan’s chest. The boy’s breath was warm where it sank through Kanan’s shirt, and Ezra’s voice was filled with immense fatigue but also a staggering amount of sincere relief.

“Thank you, Kanan.”

Taken aback, all Kanan could do in response was touch the boy’s head. But just that motion alone was enough to shift something within him, and he gently pulled Ezra away only to sink down to a knee and pull the boy into a hug. He didn’t say anything, no soft comments or promises or lies about how things were going to be better now, because those would be lies. But there were no lies in this tactile form of comfort and Ezra clung to him with all he had as if he understood.

Maybe he did.

“Come on,” Kanan finally said after Ezra yawned in his ear, wilting into his hold and growing more limp by the second. “Let’s get you to bed.”

When Ezra didn’t move and just continued to lean heavily on Kanan, he couldn’t help but give him a sad smile before gathering the boy up in his arms. When Kanan set Ezra onto the bunk, tucked him in, he was once again surprised when Ezra’s small hand reached out and latched onto him.

Curious and concerned, Kanan looked down and what he felt in the Force made him pause. Worry. Need. Fear. Hope.

“Kanan,” Ezra, somehow smaller with just that one word. “Could you … stay?”

Unable to stop himself, Kanan eased down.

“Sure, Ezra.”

Kanan watched as Ezra sat up just enough to wiggle around so he could tentatively place his head on Kanan’s lap. Surprised as he was, Kanan caught the hesitant look the boy gave him. Kanan’s heart squeezed, and he gave a soft smile before resting his back against the wall and laying a hand on Ezra’s hair. Just this once.

“It’s okay. Rest, Ezra.”

Ezra nodded, a hand reaching up to hold onto the slack in Kanan’s pant leg before he closed his eyes. In moments, the boy’s breathing pattern evened out and grew deep, and his body relaxed into sleep.

Though Kanan knew better, a strange fondness, one built on understanding and unexpected care swept through him and he carded his fingers through Ezra’s hair. It was unexpectedly thick and soft. At odds with the harsh galaxy that surrounded them. Kanan knew better than to let himself feel like this. He should be finding ways of getting rid of the kid. He should be second guessing himself, weaseling out of this. Telling himself lies about how there was no way he would ever be a good enough guardian for someone as trusting and young as this.

Instinct and experience told him those notions would come soon enough. But for now? This boy needed him. And maybe Kanan wasn’t the best choice, but he understood what Ezra was going through. Would go through.

And he wouldn’t let him go through it alone. Not like he had.

Kanan stayed there for hours with Ezra’s head on his lap, his fingers shifting through the boy’s hair, and he hoped Ezra’s dreams would be filled with sweet, kind things. Even if he knew from experience to know better.


	23. Origins - Home

The two weeks following Ezra’s arrival were perhaps the toughest Kanan had ever experienced in his life.

Toward the end of it, he was sure they were also the most … irritating.

As Kanan had expected, most of the first week had been spent comforting and stabilizing the boy. Getting to know Ezra and letting Ezra get to know him. It wasn’t exactly easy. The mood swings that week, they’d been rough. It was clear Ezra was struggling to be strong, resolutely holding back his tears in vain attempts at controlling his emotions.

But small triggers were enough to cause the boy to break down in the span of a second. Sometimes the breakdowns were of sadness, and Kanan wouldn’t be able to entice Ezra out of his bunk for meals. Sometimes they were of extreme anger, anger the boy would use to lash out at him. Ezra would curse Kanan for not saving his parents, for not letting Ezra die with them. He would beg Kanan to kill the Inquisitor, or teach him how to do it himself. Sometimes these outbursts were short. Sometimes they lasted all night until the boy was curled in his arms again, apologizing between sobs.

Kanan endured them and responded with as much wisdom and patience as he was able. With compassion and care and gentle reason. His first instinct had been to instruct Ezra. Tell him to control his emotions. Let them go. That, as a Force user, wild emotions were dangerous. But Kanan wasn’t going to do what the Jedi would have done and force Ezra to control these raging emotions he might not even understand. That was what had darkened Caleb. He wasn’t going to make Ezra fear the strength of his emotions like he once had — and still did.

These emotions, painful as they were, were natural. Trillions across the galaxy had experienced loss like what he and Ezra had experienced, and they somehow learned how to endure. They learned how to deal with and understand these emotions instead of fear them. True, the regular person didn’t have the Force, but there was something to be said about the fact that normal people could lead happy and healthy lives despite so much hardship and suffering. Kanan, with all his esteemed Jedi training, hadn’t been able to do that. Ezra wouldn’t turn out like Kanan, so Kanan would do what normal people did when someone was grieving.

And it seemed to be working. The pain from losing his parents and his life as Ezra had, that would take months, maybe years to recover from, but Kanan could see the constant patience and understanding when dealing with the moody child was having a positive effect. Though the smiles were rare, Kanan had won a few. Though Ezra hadn’t spoken much at first except to cry out with nightmares or scream at him, now he was starting to carry conversations, ask questions, become a little more engaged. Ezra was pulling himself out of his bunk to practice meditating with Kanan. His appetite was improving. The fleck of anger in his soul wasn’t igniting as often.

By no means was it perfect, and it was still a long road to recovery, but Kanan could remember what he’d been like those first couple of weeks after Kasmir had died. Half-starved. Training so hard his body constantly threatened to collapse with every step. Severe insomnia from nightmares and the memory of the power of his unbridled rage. Most of what he could recall about that time was fuzzy now, but Kanan didn’t think he’d said a word to anyone for at least a month.

In comparison, Ezra was doing remarkably, and it amazed Kanan that he of all people was somehow facilitating the recovery.

But with Ezra’s improvement came the irritation. As both he and Ezra had rightly suspected, the  _Kasmiri_  was starting to feel small and crowded. Usually when Kanan felt he needed some alone time, he’d make for open space away from everyone and everything and simply recline in his bunk or meditate. Proxy never bothered him, and there wouldn’t be a soul around that required his attention.

Now though, Ezra was there. There on the other bunk. There around the corner. There beside him while he meditated, insistent on being where Kanan was if only to keep him in sight.

Kanan did his best not to begrudge Ezra. He understood, he really did. Kanan was the most stable thing in the boy’s life right now, and after losing everything in one fell swoop, Ezra was worried about losing him now too. But years taking care of himself meant Kanan had grown used to a certain amount of freedom. Now he had a child to look after — a child who even knew who and what he was. A child who needed him. That was worlds away from a droid like Proxy who, for the most part, took care of himself and any axillary problems so Kanan wouldn’t have to. Ezra needed constant supervision and, on top of that, he needed a capable, mature adult for stability and care.

Capable and mature as Kanan was, Ezra’s dependence on him felt like the worst form of constriction, and it was difficult not to snap at the boy every time he decided to turn into a barnacle. It was part of the reason he sometimes played with the idea of breaking his word. That and the certainty he’d one day be the cause of Ezra’s death. Agreeing to take care of Ezra was a mistake. He shouldn’t have done it, and he shouldn’t be doing it now. Traveling light protected everyone, even himself. Himself, he realized, and his lifestyle.

But every time the irritation threatened to get to him, he found himself making excuses. Kanan could feel Ezra’s gratitude in the Force every time the boy broke down and needed him. Every time Kanan managed to pull a smile out of him, or soothe him after a nightmare. It wasn’t easy, but every time that insidious thought of abandoning Ezra somewhere better rose in his mind, he found himself pushing it away. Stomping it out. It was true Ezra prevented him from doing his missions, searching for targets, training, and was slowing things down. Ezra had literally stopped everything.

But the boy was getting better. He was safe. And much as he tried to ignore it, the fondness that grew in Ezra’s heart for him … it wasn’t unreciprocated. Dangerous as that was. Terrifying as it was.

Then Kanan found out that, at nature, Ezra was shamelessly curious.

“Ezra,” Kanan exhaled from where he’d been meditating with his eyes shut, even if it did nothing to block out the child. “If you keep messing with that, it’s going to cut off your hand.”

“My hand’s nowhere near the button, Kanan,” Ezra argued as he continued to fiddle with Kanan’s old lightsaber as if it wasn’t dangerous. “I’m not stupid.”

Kanan breathed through his nose and resisted the urge to snatch the old blade out of the boy’s hands. When he’d realized Ezra had taken to snooping to pass the time, he’d almost lost control and allowed his irritation to swell into anger. But that sort of reaction would likely cause Ezra to backtrack in his progress.

And all things considered, the boy hadn’t found the scythe. Of the two, Kanan was relieved Ezra had found his old Jedi artifacts rather than the Reaper’s scythe.

“I never said you were,” he said instead, opening his blind eyes and letting the meditation go for the moment so he could give Ezra the undivided attention he clearly wanted. “But that is a weapon.”

“A weapon you’re going to teach me to use one day,” Ezra replied as he extended his hand. Though he didn’t activate the blade, he pretended to wave it around as if it was.

“It’s a Jedi’s weapon, Ezra. Jedi use it.” Kanan reached out and tugged it out of Ezra’s hand so it rested in his palm. The feel of it was both familiar and foreign. Uncomfortable. It was a wonder he hadn’t rushed as he put it down. Or just dropped it. “Even I don’t use it, anymore.”

“But it’s so powerful,” the boy pointed out, still eyeing it and the small sack he’d excavated earlier. “I don’t understand why you don’t use it anyway.”

“Because I’m not a Jedi anymore, and a Jedi’s lightsaber is a symbol as much as a death warrant,” Kanan explained as patiently as he could, the urge to be over with this conversation strong. “I’m not worthy of wielding one anymore. Nor is it safe to wield one. It's a sure way to attract Inquisitors.”

“Then what will you do if I choose to become a Jedi?” Ezra asked. “How are you going to train me?”

Kanan eyed Ezra with his useless eyes. It had been growing over the last few days. These … comments about choosing to become a Jedi after all.

Kanan looked away.

“There are ways. I may not use a lightsaber, but I can make a sword just as strong, if only temporarily. That’ll work well enough.”

“Oh,” Ezra said. “You can do that too? Are you going to teach me to do that?”

A chuckle slipped from Kanan’s chest. Questions. So many questions. Hadn’t be been like that, once? “Is there anything you don’t want me to teach you?”

“I don’t know. You’re really powerful and you’ve survived this long.” Ezra shrugged. “I figure whatever you know is something I should know if I’m going to survive too.”

“But some of what I know isn’t what young Jedi should ever learn,” Kanan countered calmly. “There’s a dark side to the Force too, Ezra. It’s not good, and sometimes what I do with the Force isn’t good either. Should I teach you that too?”

This had been an important and strategic thing Kanan had been forward about from the very beginning. Maybe it was wrong, but Kanan wanted Ezra to understand from the start that for all the good the Force could be used for, it also had its bad too. And that for all the good Kanan had done, he wasn’t perfect either. Ezra should always remember that.

“Well, no,” Ezra said, his enthusiasm evaporating as his gaze dropped. The Force started to cool. “I’m sorry, Kanan. I didn’t mean to … it’s just that—”

Kanan frowned at the quick nose dive Ezra’s mood was taking as the boy fumbled to right himself. Kanan lifted his hand to silence Ezra and the boy looked at him, troubled and worried. He gave Ezra a small smile.

“I’m not getting on you Ezra. Just be careful about what you want to learn. Knowledge is just like emotion. On its own, it’s not a good or bad thing. But there is such a thing as dangerous knowledge, and to survive, I’ve had to learn some of it. Perhaps one day I will teach you. Or maybe I won’t. I’m glad you’re excited to learn, but before I can even think of teaching you any of that, you need to master the basics.” Kanan put his hand on Ezra’s narrow shoulder. “You’re only starting out, and I want to you to have strong fundamentals so you can learn what I need to teach you — whatever that will be. They’re what you must master first if you hope to master anything else, especially in the Force.”

“I know, Kanan,” Ezra said, his shoulders slumping. “I just … after everything, I just want to hurry up and do it. Learn. Use the Force. Get stronger.”

Kanan sighed. “I know. I do. You’re not as behind as you might think you are. You’ll get there in time, and then trust me. You’ll be overwhelmed by everything there is to learn that you’ll be begging me to slow down. Just relax. Take your time for now. Do you understand?”

It was slow coming, but Ezra nodded and the pressure in the Force abated.

“I understand.”

Kanan wasn’t sure Ezra fully understood, but that was okay. For now, this was enough and he’d managed to stop Ezra’s progression into depression. That was the main thing.

“Good,” Kanan said, gesturing to the sack beside Ezra. “Now there should be a cube in there. I need you to give it to me.”

Ezra handed him the holocron and Kanan frowned at it. The Force had given him something in his meditation and the easiest way to verify what it was, was with the holocron. But he wasn’t … he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to open it. He wasn’t a Jedi anymore and the peace needed to open it … well, Kanan wasn’t sure he had it anymore.

But he needed to open it if he was going to figure out what the Force was trying to tell him. Why it kept insisting on that specific location. So, doubtful as he was, Kanan focused his mind, calmed his emotions, and lifted his hand. The holocron floated before him and though there was some initial push back, to his relief it slowly began to open. The corners flew out and hung in the air. Light projected itself in the space before him.

In the Force, Kanan stared at the information he hadn’t been brave enough to set eyes on in years.

“What are you doing?” Ezra asked as he shifted closer, taking in the complicated projections before them. The boy’s question helped center Kanan’s wandering thoughts, and he pulled up a galactic map.

“Checking something. This is what’s called a Jedi holocron. It’s a massive archive of knowledge Jedi often used for guidance. I’m using it to help me answer a question.”

“What question?” Ezra prompted. Kanan couldn’t help it.

“I’m asking it for guidance on how to convince younglings to give their masters some peace to work.”

As predicted, Ezra pursed his lips but got the hint and fell silent. Amused, Kanan focused his attention on the map and used the Force to help verify his suspicions. The map shifted and began to magnify. Rim. Sector. System. Planet. As the map grew more specific, Kanan frowned. Then his frown deepened when the map finally settled. The thought slipped unconsciously across his mind.

Why there?

Reacting to the unspoken question, a flashing dot appeared at the crest of the planet. At first Kanan considered it with confusion before his eyebrows practically vanished into his hairline.

A temple.

The holocron snapped shut and it was only reflex that Kanan caught it before it could strike the ground. Ezra lifted his own brow.

“Well?”

“The masters didn’t have any guidance on how to keep younglings quiet, except to tell them they should be practicing their meditations if they want to get stronger in the Force. Like you keep saying you want to,” Kanan replied. Ezra groaned and threw himself back against the floor.

“It didn’t tell you that. That was obviously a map.”

“It did,” Kanan lied. Ezra groaned again.

“But Kanan, I’ve meditated for half an hour already! And I don’t feel any closer to the Force.”

Kanan resisted the urge to tell the boy that it took Kanan half an hour just to settle into the meditation. That he could meditate for days on end.

“It takes practice, Ezra. It’s not easy but it is the first step.”

“That’s what you keep saying, Kanan, but it’s not working.”

Kanan chuckled. “It is, Ezra. But to see results, you need to be patient.”

“But how am I supposed to be patient when I’m so bored?” Ezra complained. “Kanan can we please go somewhere? I’m going crazy being cooped up in here.”

Ezra had been asking for days now. Apart from a quick supply run while Ezra had been sleeping that first night, when Kanan had sent Proxy out for more food and clothes for Ezra, they hadn’t landed anywhere. Depressed as Ezra sometimes was, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the boy was naturally active and full of energy. Energy the  _Kasmiri_  wasn’t big enough to handle.

And Ezra wasn’t the only one itching for more room. They both needed space to stretch their legs, and soon. Hopefully a permanent place.

Kanan answered Ezra honestly.

“That’s why I’m meditating, Ezra.”

“But I don’t see how meditating is going to tell you if we should go somewhere or not,” the boy argued. “It’s just boring. You sit there for hours in the quiet, and suddenly the Force tells you something?”

“More or less.”

“Then why isn’t it telling me anything?”

Kanan snorted. “Maybe it’s because you’re still talking and waving around old Jedi lightsabers?”

Ezra glowered but stubbornly, as if to prove a point, sat up into a kneeling position again on the cushion next to Kanan.

“I’ll make it talk to me this time,” the boy muttered as he closed his eyes, his face scrunched up and shoulders tight. His feet fidgeted. Amusement slipped through Kanan. Ezra was never going to get the Force to ‘talk’ to him like that.

“You need to relax, Ezra.”

“I am relaxed,” the boy snapped, and Kanan left it at that. Ezra was just starting off. He’d eventually learn, even if it was the hard way. Silence settled between them and Kanan sank back into his meditation.

After two weeks, Kanan knew they needed a place to settle down. And for the umpteenth time since Kanan had first begun his meditation, one focused on guidance and direction to a safe place to settle down, he found his thoughts again drifting to a now familiar place. The same place the holocron had indicated.

Lothal.

* * *

 

The next day, Ezra, with heavy bags under his eyes from another hard night of nightmares, ate his breakfast while staring at Kanan in disbelief.

“We’re going back to Lothal?” Ezra gaped as they drifted in orbit above the planet. In the pilot’s seat Proxy prepared a flight course which would take them close to where the temple should be. “But what about the Inquisitor?”

“Proxy checked when we first got here. The Inquisitor left not long after we did. But even if he hadn’t, we’re not going to Capital City,” Kanan explained. “The Force keeps pointing me toward Lothal, and I think I know why.”

Ezra gestured in agitation with his hands, waiting. “Well, why?”

“Apparently, there’s an old Jedi temple here,” Kanan said. “That’s what I was checking the holocron for, yesterday.”

“I thought you said the Temple was on Coruscant,” Ezra countered, uneasy with this new development.

“The main temple is. The one here was likely an outpost for this region of the Outer Rim. If we’re lucky, the Empire doesn’t know about it. They tend to want to know where all the Jedi temples are though, and it’s possible they found it in the Temple archive.”

“What if they do know about it? How will we know?” Ezra all but demanded, anxiety spiking in the Force. “Won’t they catch us if we go there?”

“I’m not planning on going straight there quite yet,” Kanan replied in calming tones. “Well, we’re going near there to set up our own surveillance, but after that we’re going to test it.”

Ezra didn’t appear to be appeased, and frankly Kanan thought that was an appropriate response. He should be cautious in his new life. “Then how are we going to test it? Are … are we going to show ourselves? To see if they come after us for being Jedi?”

Kanan laughed, but not unkindly. “No, Ezra,” he replied as he clapped the boy’s shoulder. “No. Proxy will go. And we’re sure to find out with his help.”

“How’s that?” Ezra asked, looking at Proxy. Proxy’s photoreceptors were bright.

“Because I’m a holodroid, Ezra, and I have templates which will allow me to take on the form of a Jedi Knight.”

“You can?” Ezra exclaimed, his breakfast and worry momentarily forgotten now that his attention was dominated by Proxy. The droid all but preened. “Can you show me?”

“I’d be delighted to,” Proxy replied amiably before a hologram flickered across his skeletal body. Ezra watched transfixed as Jedi Master Mace Windu now stood tall and proud in the  _Kasmiri’s_  cockpit.

“Do you know who I am?” Proxy asked in an exact replica of the old Master’s voice. The imitation sent a curl of discomfort through Kanan, one he did his best to hide. Even knowing Master Windu was dead, it was just … eerie to see an exact replica of the Jedi like that. It was why he tried not to let Proxy use those templates.

“I think I’ve seen you before in an old holovid my par—” Ezra’s voice choked off, and Kanan waited to see which way Ezra would fall. The boy struggled for a moment, his eyes watering, but he swallowed and continued. Even if his voice was tight. “Master Mace … Mace ….”

“Windu. Master Mace Windu,” the dark-skinned holoprojection replied proudly. The image flickered and the next instant a taller Jedi, a human male with long brown hair pulled away from his face and sure blue eyes stood where Mace Windu had. “And who am I now?”

Proxy’s voice had once again changed to fit this new image, and Ezra’s eyes lit.

“I know that one! It’s Qui-Gon Jinn!”

The holoprojection smiled. “Very good!” Qui-Gon Jinn said in approval before the holoprojection rippled again. Kanan stared blandly back at himself.

“Oh, I wonder who that is,” Kanan questioned rhetorically, but Ezra was impressed as could be, fully distracted from the grief that had almost taken him down.

“Could you do me, Proxy? I want to see you do me!”

The holoprojection shifted, this time taking longer as Proxy’s limbs attempted to shorten to match Ezra’s boyish height. The projection flowed over the droid’s body again, and Ezra made a face as he examined the strange caricature that was the best Proxy could manage. The face was right but the proportions were all wrong, and it was difficult for Kanan not to boom with laughter.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t look like that,” Ezra muttered.

“I don’t know,” Kanan joked as he moved toward Proxy. “Looks pretty similar to me.”

“I have problems accurately projecting individuals below and above a certain height,” Proxy admitted. “I get stuck sometimes.”

Kanan reached through the back of the projection and found the switch to reset the droid and flipped it. The projection vanished and Proxy was back to himself again. Despite the malfunction, Ezra’s eyes were filled with childlike wonder.

“Proxy, you’re so cool!”

Kanan smirked and was amazed at how the droid could appear so bashful at the honest compliment. When he’d found Proxy, he’d been little more than a broken husk. But Kanan had sensed something in the droid and had salvaged him, and not a day passed when he wasn’t happy with the decision. The droid was a wonderful companion, an adequate navigator, and excelled in espionage. Proxy had more than proved his worth over the years.

It made him happy that the boy had taken a liking to the gentle droid too. After all, it was likely they’d end up spending a lot of time together in the future.

They left for Lothal not long after breakfast, and Kanan flew them as close as he dared to the hidden temple. Ezra was amazed, still in disbelief that Kanan really could fly blind. The boy had slowly accepted Kanan’s strange way of seeing, but kept testing him as if to find a way to prove him wrong. It was a good thing Kanan found it amusing more than anything else. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have put up with it.

He gave it another week.

Once they’d set everything up, Proxy took on the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi and assumed a kneeling position in front of the great stone pillar that hid the temple while he and Ezra waited at a distance hidden in the  _Kasmiri_. Ezra was nervous about the plan to wait and see if Imperials came for the droid. He’d bonded with Proxy, and it was obvious he didn’t want anything to happen to him. Kanan didn’t want anything to happen to Proxy either, but if he was going to ensure the temple was safe, Proxy was the way.

As minutes turned to hours, and as hours turned into a full day, it was clear no one was coming. Though Kanan would have liked to wait a little bit longer, it was also becoming problematic. Ezra’s patience was gone and every time Kanan let his attention drift for even a moment, the boy was already edging toward the ramp hatch, eager to be outside.

As satisfying as another day of surveillance would have been, he’d make do if it would stop Ezra from driving him up the wall. He’d summoned Proxy back and Ezra all but screamed with relief when Kanan finally let him out into the chilly open air. The boy ran through the field and toppled over with delighted laughter, and though Kanan followed more sedately, he smiled.

Kanan couldn’t remember smiling like that in a long time. If ever.

When Proxy returned, Kanan readied his Joben, but when he set out to leave Ezra surprised him with his stubbornness.

 “I’m coming too!” Ezra insisted as he doggedly followed Kanan. “You said this is a Jedi temple, and I might decide to become a Jedi. So I should come!”

“You haven’t made that decision yet,” Kanan shot back as he straddled his speeder. He knew what this was. Ezra was anxious at the idea of being separated from him. It radiated through the Force like a sharp note. “Besides, it’s not safe, Ezra. It’s not uncommon for Jedi temples to test those that try to enter them. You’re untrained and you might get hurt.”

“But you’ll be there, Kanan,” Ezra argued. “You’re strong. You’ll protect me.”

“Me protecting you right now is me leaving you here. With Proxy. Where it’s safe.” Ezra’s face was set, but Kanan’s was firmer. “I’ll be back in a few hours. If everything is safe, then I’ll bring you with me next time.”

Ezra’s narrow shoulders pulled back in a way Kanan was growing increasingly familiar with. A stubborn way. “Come on, Kanan! This is the first time I’ve been out of the  _Kasmiri_  in weeks! Let me come. I promise that I’ll listen and that I won’t get in the way.”

“Just like you’re listening to me now?” Kanan pointed out with a lifted eyebrow, but before Ezra could argue further, the comm clicked and Proxy’s voice came through. Worry colored his words.

“Kanan, I’m sorry but I can’t find Ezra anywhere. I believe he may have attempted to follow after you.”

Kanan ran a hand over his face and gave up. He wasn’t in the mood for this right now, and he was confident that so long as Ezra did as he was told, he was skilled enough to keep the boy safe.

Of course, that relied on Ezra doing as he was told, and though he’d been fairly obedient the past week, this stubborn streak was starting to speak of past behavior and not a new pattern. But for now, he would put up with it. If it truly was dangerous, then he would turn back and return to the temple later, alone, whether Ezra liked it or not. He thumbed his comlink.

“Don’t worry, Proxy. He’s with me. Just keep an eye on the  _Kasmiri_  until we get back, all right?” Beside him Ezra’s grin was blinding, and Kanan wondered if this was what it was like to be played by a seven-year-old. He rolled his eyes and jerked his head to tell the boy to climb on.

“I’m only allowing this because you promised to listen,” Kanan said before they so much as moved an inch. “It’s important that you do, Ezra. I’m not joking when I say Jedi temples can be dangerous places. You must do what I say.”

“I already told you I promise,” Ezra replied brightly as he slipped his arms around Kanan’s waist, ready to go. Even though he was sure this was a mistake, Kanan urged the Joben forward. He supposed he’d find out if the boy’s word was worth anything here soon.

The temple, he had to admit, was well concealed. It looked exactly like the other large and buried stones which littered the surface of Lothal, but this close he could feel the pull of the Force more strongly, as if it was calling to him. He let it guide him. At first he was sure the Force would pull him toward the obelisk-like structure and into the temple like he’d expected, but no. Instead he was drawn to the side, and oddly enough away from the main structure.

Surprising as it was, he followed the pull and amongst an outcropping of massive stones about a mile away, he found an ancient pathway, one that led undergrown in the general direction of the temple. He parked his speeder and pulled on his pack. Once Ezra was safely on the ground next to him, he stared at the boy seriously.

“Remember. Stay close and do as I say.”

“Do you want me to pinkie swear?” Ezra asked with a huff. “I already told you I promise.” The boy fell silent as he gave the dark passage an uncomfortable look. “Besides … I don’t know, but this place feels strange.”

Kanan nodded. “That’s the Force you feel. It’s stronger here than it is anywhere else on Lothal.” He took Ezra’s hand, and Ezra clenched his fingers. “Until we know what’s ahead, you’re right to be wary.”

Ezra nodded, but squared his shoulders. Kanan was impressed by the boy’s courage now that they were actually here.

Leading the way, Kanan gave Ezra a small flashlight he’d found stowed in the Joben a long time ago from when he’d bought it from its previous owner. As they entered the tunnel, relief flowed from Ezra as he clung to both it and Kanan, and they moved into the darkness quietly. Kanan’s Force sense lengthened on reflex as he saw ahead. He was already glancing around curiously when the tunnel opened into a large cavern.

It was starkly Jedi, now that he could sense it properly. The carvings were so familiar they made a deep part of his heart ache, and he knew what sort of chambers these were. These were living chambers for the Jedi who once resided here in this ancient temple. Barracks. He could see a multitude of sleeping rooms down a hall. A meditation chamber. An armory. There was even a library, and springs down the way for bathing. In this large atrium alone a number of work tables were lined up beside a massive empty space he could only guess had been used for training.

It was incredible.

“Kanan?” Ezra asked with a tinge of worry as he gripped Kanan’s hand hard enough to make his knuckles roll. Kanan blinked through his amazement to look down at the boy. Guilt nipped at him because Ezra was afraid, his eyes flicking everywhere in a failed attempt to make shapes out of the shadows. He couldn’t see what Kanan could see with the thick, oppressive darkness all around them, even with the aid of that tiny flashlight. Ezra might as well have been blind.

“Hold on,” Kanan said as he turned, his voice carrying for ages in the ancient room. “This way.”

“You’re sure?” Ezra mumbled as he struggled not to trip over his own feet in the dark.

“Remember that I’m blind, Ezra. I use the Force to see. I don’t need light. I know where I’m going.”

Even though Ezra nodded, he didn’t reply. That was fine though. In the meantime, he found an ancient lighting mechanism and activated it. Light began emanating from light tubes embedded in the walls, and Ezra’s eyes widened now that the darkness had been pushed back.

“This place …” Ezra breathed, his voice timeless and dusty as it slipped through the air. “It’s … amazing.”

Kanan nodded as he dropped his pack on one of the old tables. Curiosity swelled within Ezra as he retook Kanan’s hand. The worry that had filled him only a moment ago was gone, and oddly enough, it was now Ezra who prompted Kanan forward.

They slowly explored the forgotten barracks, and the entire time Ezra pestered Kanan for explanations. What was this? What was that? What did Kanan mean Jedi Masters could use the Force to lift those massive boulders in the meditation room? Was that a lightsaber whip?

“Yes, Ezra,” Kanan said patiently as he swept it away from the boy, whose fascinated attention had already shifted to something new.

“The Jedi … they used all this stuff?” Ezra said as he took it all in. “I bet they helped so many people.”

Kanan heard the wistful edge in his voice. He could practically read Ezra’s thoughts as they flickered across his face. There was so much goodness there. So much light. Hope and fire like what had driven Mira Bridger. Hope in the Force.

“Come on,” Kanan said, trying not to sigh at the same time. “There’s still more.”

Despite the age of the place, much of what remained had survived the ravages of time in decent shape. The training room and the equipment there had survived well, and the library! Jedi or not, that was a treasure. Kanan found a display and was pleased that it came on without complaint. Idly he searched its archives. It wasn’t nearly as large as the archives in the Temple on Coruscant, but to see so much knowledge, Jedi knowledge right there, waiting … it was as wonderful as it was painful. He might not be worthy of it, but Ezra might be one day. For him, this archive would be priceless.

As they’d explored, he had kept his senses sharpened for traps, or hints in the Force that they might be tested just by being here. This might not be the temple proper, but Kanan wasn’t letting his guard down regardless.

The only thing that made Kanan pause was when they neared a large, ornate stone door, barred and ominous on the other end of the hallway that housed the sleeping rooms. As they neared it, Kanan felt the Force swell and he immediately paused. His breath locked in his chest as the Force took the form of a Temple Guard.

“Kanan?” Ezra asked at the abrupt stop. “Kanan, what’s wrong?”

Kanan didn’t answer because he was too busy staring at the Temple Guard. The guard stood tall and proud in clean Jedi armor, center before the door like an immovable object. A sentry, ready and waiting, his intent unmistakable in the Force.

The Temple Guard shook his head slowly, and Kanan nodded in understanding. The next moment the guard was gone, and it was only him and Ezra again, the Force swirling as normally as it ever did. He frowned and looked down at Ezra.

“Did you see anything, just now?”

“No,” Ezra replied, concerned. “Should I have?”

For a moment, Kanan considered lying but saw no value in it. Given Ezra’s curious nature, it was better he know now rather than later so he wouldn’t accidentally tempt the temple.

“Do not go through that door over there,” Kanan said. “It leads into the temple itself. If we stay here, it’s not a place we should enter.”

“Why? Did you see something?”

Kanan nodded as he led Ezra away. “When you become more adept with the Force, sometimes the Force takes on shapes in order to tell you something. When I looked at the door, I saw a Temple Guard. He warned us not to pass.”

“So it’s dangerous there?” Ezra clarified, and Kanan nodded. That, and it was no place for the likes of him, at least.

“So long as we stay on this side of that door, we can stay here. But past that is the temple, and you are not ready for its tests, even if you choose to become a Jedi. If we stay here, Ezra, you cannot go through that door. What’s on the other side might kill you. Do you understand?”

Ezra studied the door for a long moment before he nodded in affirmation, holding Kanan’s hand tighter than he had a moment earlier.

Aside from the massive stone door, there was nothing wrong with the place. It was safe, or as safe as it could be. He was already making plans to update the security, and he’d have to figure out what to do about hiding the  _Kasmiri_ , but the longer he roamed the halls, the more relaxed he felt. The more certain.

Ezra looked up at him once they’d arrived back to the main atrium.

“So … are we going to be staying here?”

Kanan breathed in the old air, felt the Force curl around him. The both of them. He smiled at the boy.

“Yeah. I think this place’ll do.”

Ezra slowly nodded before he cast his eyes out again. Then his hand tightened around Kanan’s.

“I think I’ve decided.”

“You want to become a Jedi,” Kanan said, releasing the sigh from earlier. “I know, Ezra.”

Ezra stared at him.

“You’re not angry?”

Kanan gave Ezra a small chuckle. “No, Ezra. I’m not angry. There’s so much goodness and light in you that I think we both knew you’d choose the path of the Jedi eventually. It just means I’ll have to train you harder, and work harder to keep you safe until you can protect yourself.”

“You’re really not angry?” Ezra asked again, and Kanan ruffled the boy’s hair playfully.

“Really, Apprentice,” he said, trying on the term. Although it was more appropriate to use Padawan, he couldn’t make his mouth form the word. Apprentice would do just fine. “Now come on. Let’s get Proxy and show him our new home.”

* * *

 

“Remember, Ezra. Lie when you have to, and don’t forget to treat me as if I’m really blind. It’s very important that you do.”

“I know, Kanan,” Ezra huffed just before they broke the tree line before Maz’s castle. “You’ve only told me a thousand times by now.”

Kanan smirked at the kid’s pluck as he took Ezra’s hand in one hand, and his walking stick in the other.

“All right,” he said. “Just don’t want you to feel too nervous. This place can be kind of rough, but so long as you’re aware, you stick with me, and you don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said with a hint of uncertainty as he squeezed Kanan’s hand and fell in beside him. As much as the boy was trying to hide his nervousness, Kanan could feel it in the Force like a beacon. It was so rare to be around someone with such a strong Force presence, even after a month together with the boy. Now that they were in public, it made Kanan uneasy. After years of concealing his presence in the Force, the first thing he wanted Ezra to master was concealment.

But that was some time coming. Though improving, Ezra was still having trouble maintaining his meditation and stillness. Though it irked Kanan, Ezra needed to take baby steps. He couldn’t afford to discourage the boy before he’d even started. For now, it was fine. No one knew Ezra existed and no one expected the Force from the boy. He had some time before it would become necessary.

He hoped.

The walk up to Maz’s watering hole was slow as he played blind and prompted Ezra to help him, training him now because this act was going to be one they kept using. Kanan had thought hard on this. Initially he’d wanted to keep Ezra squirreled away at the temple, leave Proxy to take care of him while he was gone, but Kanan felt uncomfortable doing that right now. Partly because he still wasn’t sure about the temple’s security, but also the thought of leaving the boy halfway across the galaxy made his stomach twist.

Still he could have left him on the  _Kasmiri_ , but a farsight vision had shown him a glimpse of him, Ezra, and Maz. It had to mean something and, unsettling as it was, it was Maz. If there was anyone in the galaxy he trusted, it was probably the old pirate queen herself.

Besides. The kid still needed to get out in the world, and Kanan believed some of the best lessons learned were while he was surrounded by smugglers and miscreants. He felt it had toughened him up. Taught him truths about the world. It was important that Ezra learned some of those truths and lessons too, before they became liabilities.

Either way, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

“Ready?” he asked just before he opened the door. Ezra swallowed, but nodded. “Here we go, then.”

Ezra pushed the door open and carefully led him inside. Kanan knew there weren’t many in the cantina, and only a few eyes glanced up at their entrance. Most only saw Kanan and not the boy that stood small beside him, but not Maz.

Maz, as always, saw everything.

“Kanan Jarrus,” the old pirate said as she set down a platter of dirty dishes to wipe her hands on the rag tucked into the waistline of her pants. She neared them and Ezra shifted closer as he watched the small woman. “And a young guest.”

“Hey Maz,” Kanan said with a wry grin. “You have somewhere we can sit and eat?”

“Kanan, you know my kitchens are closed this late,” she chided as her eyes traced his hold on Ezra’s hand. “But I suppose there might be something I can pull together. This one looks like he could do with something to eat.”

At the attention, Ezra’s fingers tightened. Maz smiled kindly at him, eyes gentle where they’d been pointed with Kanan. With deft movements, she removed the goggles that magnified her eyes.

“Hello. My name’s Maz Kanata. I own this place,” she said with all the old kindness of a grandmother. “What’s your name, child?”

Ezra looked up at Kanan, and Kanan squeezed his hand and nodded blindly at him. Ezra was prepared for this. At least, he insisted he was, so Kanan would trust him.

“Ezra,” Ezra finally admitted to Maz. “Ezra Jarrus.”

It was strange to hear his last name attached to the boy and though Maz didn’t so much as blink, he suspected that she was thinking the same thing. But this was the cover they were going with, for now. He needed to see if it would take. He needed Maz’s opinion.

“Jarrus, hmm?” she asked as she took Ezra’s other hand and pulled him and Kanan over to a booth so they could all sit and talk. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Kanan’s never mentioned a word.”

“I don’t exactly go around telling everyone my life story. Man’s gotta keep some secrets,” Kanan replied as they all settled down. Maz waved to a server to bring some food.

“Fair enough. Where’s your mother, Ezra?”

At the mention of his mother, Ezra immediately looked down. Kanan frowned and shook his head at Maz, and she placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, child.”

The boy shrugged before he gave the old pirate a weak smile. “I’ll be all right.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you still have your father,” she said as she helped place the food and drinks on the table, and beside Kanan he felt Ezra’s grip on his hand grow stronger. Kanan knew Ezra was thinking of Ephraim Bridger, and he pulled his hand from the Ezra’s and wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. The Force tinged with Ezra’s sadness, and Maz’s lips thinned slightly.

Once it felt as if Ezra had himself better under control, he let him go and they ate. Kanan and Maz made small talk for a while, long enough for Ezra to eat and yawn before slipping off to sleep against Kanan. Ezra still wasn’t sleeping well with all his nightmares, and it was both tender and saddening that the best sleep he achieved was when he was with Kanan. Kanan was teaching Ezra sleeping tricks and techniques, and they helped some, but the nightmares were a common occurrence. More often than not, Kanan woke up and rushed to help Ezra wake up once the screaming started in the middle of the night.

He knew Maz watched as he carefully maneuvered the boy down next to him, placing his head on his lap so he’d be more comfortable. After a moment of silence, Maz shifted, signaling to the bartender.

“His mother is dead, isn’t she?”

Kanan nodded, his face stoic. “Yeah. Imperials.”

She nodded in understanding before taking her cup from the server and placing the other in front of Kanan. He left it alone to gently stroke Ezra’s hair like he always seemed to do now whenever the boy fell asleep on him.

“I heard about Lothal.”

“So did I,” Kanan replied, recalling the fire, the blood, and the pain of Mira Bridger as she said goodbye to her son and passed into the Force. The stifling heat of the Inquisitor. It might as well have happened yesterday. “It’s a shame the Reaper couldn’t get there in time.”

“It’s a shame what happened to the Bridgers,” Maz said pointedly, unwilling to consider the Reaper in this. “They were good people. They gave many hope in a time when there is so little.”

Kanan nodded absentmindedly. She was right. There wouldn’t be any more broadcasts from the Bridgers. The galaxy had truly suffered a loss, no matter how subtle the loss had been.

“They had a son, I hear. One that died,” Maz said mildly as she watched Ezra sleep on Kanan’s lap. “As I hear it, his name was Ezra.”

“Happy coincidence,” Kanan replied.

“Indeed,” the old pirate agreed, and he knew Maz was not fooled. She knew exactly who this boy was, but she wasn’t going to say anything. “You’re quite young to be a father to a child that age. Not that anyone could tell by the look of you.” Maz was the only one who knew his real age, and because of that she knew it wasn’t likely he’d fathered a son at the age of fourteen. But the fact that she thought their claimed relationship could pass made him feel better.

“I look old enough. No one should ask questions.”

She shook her head at him as she reclined back, her cup cradled against her chest.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Kanan.”

He turned his blind gaze at her, and for the first time wished that she could see his eyes. To know the truth, instead of playing this game and dancing around it as they did. But he couldn’t tell her, and she couldn’t know for certain because that put her in so much danger. He was already putting Ezra in danger. He wouldn’t do it to her too.

He sighed before turning his attention back to Ezra, this boy who trusted him more than anyone should ever trust him. It made his heart tremble. Death came for everyone that got close to him. Everyone he got close to.

Kanan prayed that this once, just this once, it wouldn’t come for Ezra Bridger. That he was strong enough to protect this little boy.

“Me too, Maz. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s the last of the Ezra Origin cluster. I hope you enjoyed it! There’s only one more Origin cluster left (which might or might not finally be about Gorse), but that won’t be for a while. 
> 
> So, I’ve made a change about how I’m about to proceed with this fic. Instead of doing the Time Mission side-stories next like I said I would, I’m going to proceed into the final movement of the story. That being said, I’m still going to do the Time Missions. I’m just going to do them at the end of Blackbird. You’ll get them, promise. I’m just feeling sporty about the final movement, and I figure I better take it while I have it.
> 
> Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought about this chapter! As always, check [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/) for updates. We're going to aim for Friday posting again, but that's a great place to check if there's going to be changes.
> 
> Next chapter we’ll be returning to our Jedi and crew. Everything’s been going so well for all of them for months as they’ve bonded and grown closer. It would be such a shame if Kanan stumbled, now that he’s in a good place. 
> 
> Wouldn’t it?


	24. Slipping

Kanan collapsed into his chair, a grin still clinging to his lips stubbornly. That last mission with Hera and her crew had been  _smooth_. Like riding his Joben across the vast plains of Lothal in the middle of the night, or taking the  _Kasmiri_  for a nice, easy joyride. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d all but waltzed into an Imperial cruiser and everything came together flawlessly.

Synchronicity. It was synchronicity between him and Ezra, and Hera and her crew. Everyone moving in harmony.

Not for the first time did he have to admit to certain virtues which came with working with a larger team. Hera’s team. More trigger-happy manpower, a demolitions expert, a highly specialized — if insane — astromech and protocol droid tag-team combo, and the best pilot he’d ever known in his life. It opened up jobs and missions he’d never been able to consider, even if he’d had to learn how to rely on them to get these jobs done.

And boy, were they getting jobs done.

It had taken him a while to get used to the work. Usually the work was cargo transport, smuggling, infiltration or simply — his growing favorite — downright mayhem against Imperials. But it surprised him how often Hera and Ezra found work which benefited. Benefited others. 

There was always some sort of payoff for them, of course. They all still needed to eat, and needed credits to pay for fuel and finance their … adventures. But sometimes it struck him how little the pay mattered when faced with the desperate and hopeful eyes of someone who was begging them to rescue a friend, or needed help clearing up an old building so it could be turned into a makeshift orphanage.

To his own amazement — and the amazement of Ezra and the others, he was sure — he would sometimes wave off the payment, if only to help.

That first milk run, it had unnerved him because that sort of work, genuinely _good_ work … it wasn’t the work he did. Not since the fall of the Jedi. But although he’d tried to avoid it in the beginning, he kept finding himself in positions where he was doing that good work, again and again. Work a past him would have been proud to do. Eager to do.

The discomfort, to his surprise, had faded. He hadn’t said anything, but recently when he heard they were about to help someone, he looked forward to it. Worked harder because there were people who depended on them. He could help make things just a little better, and the gratitude they’d feel in return always struck him like it had that first milk run.

Kanan knew Ezra was thrilled. Relieved, in spite of Kanan’s initial reluctance. Despite Kanan’s continued insistence concerning Ezra’s Force concealment, the boy’s happiness seeped out to radiate in the Force like a comforting fire. And Kanan knew it wasn’t only because of his own growing acceptance of the  _Ghost_  crew and the work they were doing.

It astonished Kanan how much Ezra had opened up, working with Hera’s crew. When it was just him and Ezra, the boy was calm and collected. A bit withdrawn. Careful. He used to work constantly on his tech, or training, or spend time visiting the streets of Lothal.

Now though? Smiles. Laughter. Teasing Lasats, art with Mandalorians, flights with Twi’leks, jokes with droids, and the stories he spent so much time telling Kanan whenever Kanan hadn’t come along for the adventure. There was a light growing in the boy, a light that had always been there just waiting to gleam brighter. Hera and her crew, they were pulling it out of Ezra and he was thriving with them and these new challenges.

Tender pride swelled in his chest for his apprentice, and he was happy for him. That Ezra was growing into something new and incredible. Something bright and light like he’d been working so hard to be since his mother’s death.

But as amazing as that was, sometimes it felt as if Ezra was drifting into another world. Another life. The potential for something better with a brighter future. A path Kanan could only watch the boy take, but couldn’t follow himself. He wanted Ezra to take it. If anyone deserved it, Ezra Bridger did, even if it meant Kanan would be left behind.

Only Ezra would turn around and come back.

Cretin he was, Kanan couldn’t help the relief he felt — or the guilt that followed — that Ezra always returned. Returned for him. He shouldn’t. Kanan’s life, it was shadowed. Filled with … problematic actions and morally dubious choices. It always would be. Ezra, he was good. Had always been good. Kanan wasn’t. Ezra should go where the light was, and Kanan knew he was smart enough to know that.

But Ezra wouldn’t leave him, and instead insisted on bringing him along too, when he could.

What a Jedi thing to do.

It was why Kanan had even been on their most recent mission to recollect cargo the Empire had apprehended. At Ezra’s insistence.

Infiltrating the Imperial cruiser had been like breathing. Sabine had taken care of the blast doors and problem areas. Ezra and Zeb had cleared the path. Chopper had sliced into the mainframe and found their apprehended cargo, all while Kanan lead the team and Hera watched from above like the eyes of god. It had gone brilliantly. Perfectly.

Well, maybe not perfectly. Toward the end, Kanan had gotten the itch.

It truth, it had sprung up from time to time, maybe once or twice a month after he’d submitted to the fact that he wouldn’t be going on Reaper missions for a while. Not while the threat of the Inquisitors still loomed over both him and Ezra. Usually it was fine. He was too busy to notice. Sometimes though, during lulls between missions, he got … antsy. Twitchy.

His mind wandered. Which Imperials were out there, nearby? He could take a jaunt to Capital City. Check and see, just to sate the itch. Satisfy his curiosity. Logically, he knew there wouldn’t be anyone of importance. Governor Pryce wasn’t even around these days.

But maybe if he looked hard enough, there would be something. Someone. If there was someone, he could make it a quick mission. Do the planning and prep-work in a week. Carry it out in a night, while Ezra was away with the others.

Sometimes Kanan _did_ go to Capital City. Sometimes he sat at his corner, pretending to beg near the Imperial compound, just to check. Usually that was enough to relieve the urge. There wasn’t ever anyone of interest around anyway, and he’d leave having done nothing more than wasting a few hours of his time. By then, as if they’d known, Hera or Ezra would contact him with another mission and he’d find himself more than willing to take it on.

Other times the itch was worse. And as the months had grown, so had its strength. So when the itch had hit him on that cruiser, while the rest of the team was busy collecting the cargo, he’d snuck away for a moment to slice into the Imperial system. Since time wasn’t on his side, he’d downloaded whatever information he could onto a datacard he kept handy. He’d been back before anyone had even noticed he’d been gone.

It was only to satisfy the itch. Just information gathering. No different from his trips to Capital City. No different at all.

Kanan traced his finger along the edges of the datacard and hoped the itch would go away soon. Ever since he’d settled in his chair at the command console after returning to base, the itch had only grown stronger. More than likely it was just curiosity. He had the information but he didn’t know what was on the card.

That was all.

“What’s that?”

“Just something Proxy gave me to look over,” Kanan lied as he turned his attention over his shoulder where Ezra was finishing his dinner. How long had Kanan been thinking about the datacard that Ezra had been prompted to ask about it? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it was a good opportunity to draw Ezra’s attention away from the card. “I meant to tell you. Good job earlier with that locking mechanism. I doubt Zeb even noticed you’d used the Force to get us into the cargo bay.”

“Thanks,” Ezra said, his voice distracted as he returned his attention to his bowl. “I’ve been practicing.”

Kanan studied Ezra and the misty concern wafting off the boy. He’d noticed it for a while now, growing over the week like a dark cloud over Ezra’s mood. Kanan turned in his chair to face his apprentice, attention devoted and concerned.

“What’s on your mind, Ezra? I’ve felt it all week.”

Ezra’s frown deepened before he scrubbed a hand over his face and met Kanan’s blind eyes. “It’s nothing, Kanan. At least, I think it’s nothing.”

Kanan lifted an eyebrow and waited. Ezra sighed, his body slumping with the action. “Fine. I’m just worried about Rosie.”

“Rosie?” Kanan echoed, surprised. “I thought you went to visit her last week. Is something wrong?”

Ezra shrugged, and the boy’s worry in the Force thickened slightly. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but every time I’ve gone to Cholganna over the last month, when I call her she doesn’t come. It’s weird. It’s like she’s not there.”

Kanan’s brow furrowed as he thought of possible explanations. “Maybe you waited too long to visit her? Force bonds can fade, like it did with Twister and Mox.”

Twister and Mox had been a pair of anooba pups a former target had been keeping. Though Ezra had bonded with the pups when they’d taken them, on mission two months later instead of listening to the boy they’d taken off into the forest. They were gone before Ezra could reconnect.

“It’s not that. The bond I have with Rosie is different. It’s stronger. I’d never let it fade.”

“Well, maybe she was busy,” Kanan offered. “She might have been hunting. Hunger is a strong motivator for most species. She might have chosen to eat first.”

Ezra shrugged again, clearly unconvinced by the pinch of his brow. “I thought about that but … I don’t know. There’s probably some explanation. I just … like I said, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling, is all.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. She’s a strong girl. She can take care of herself out there in the jungle.” Seeing the platitude still didn’t have the right effect on his apprentice, Kanan tried again. “How about I go with you next time? She doesn’t like me as much as she likes you, but between the both of us I’m sure we could find her.”

That caught the spark in Ezra’s eyes, and a touch of relief slipped into the Force. “Thanks, Kanan. You’re right, it’s probably nothing. But I’ll feel better when we find her.”

“You’re missing her. That might be what this is,” Kanan said. “It has been a few months.”

“I hope that’s all it is.” Ezra stood, walking his plate to the sink. “Did Hera tell you anything about the next mission?”

“So far as I knew, she didn’t have one lined up,” Kanan said over his shoulder. “Told me it was my turn to come up with something.”

“Then you’d better do it.” Ezra grinned, the cloud over his mood wavering. “We both know how she is. Likes to have a mission every few days. You know she’ll come up with something if you don’t.”

“Well, it’s not as if we have to go,” Kanan drawled back. “Though I’m sure you’d have no issues. I bet Sabine would be more than happy to see you.”

Ezra paused cleaning his dish and shot a look at Kanan.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Kanan replied, playing dumb. “Just noticed you two are getting pretty close.” The urge was too much. As both Ezra’s guardian and master, there was no way he could resist teasing him a little. “Should I be having certain talks with you?”

Ezra stared, then gaped at him as his face heated immediately.

“What? Kanan, no!” Ezra dropped his plate on the rack before turning to Kanan, flustered. “It’s not like that! We’re just friends. We’re not—we haven’t—!”

Kanan snickered. “I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about. I was only talking about reminding you that Jedi are supposed to avoid personal attachment.” He lifted a brow. “What sort of talks were you thinking I meant?”

Ezra’s face deadpanned. “You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

“I’ve been told a time or two.”

“I bet it was all by Hera. If anyone’s gotten pretty close, Master, I’d say it’s you and her.”

“Maybe,” Kanan admitted without shame. “But I’m not a Jedi, and I don’t need any talks.” Kanan grinned and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Ezra replied before turning to leave. “Anyway, I haven’t had any sleep since we left yesterday. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams about pretty Mandalorian girls.”

Ezra grumbled and Kanan’s grin pulled into an amused smile as he kicked his feet up onto the console. The crush Ezra had on Sabine was cute, no doubt about it, and it was fun to tease his apprentice sometimes. Ezra sure wasn’t above teasing him about the close relationship he had with Hera.

And it certainly had gotten close.

Just the thought of Hera made his chest fill with warmth, warmth which seemed to swim throughout the rest of him. Seeing her these days was always a pleasure, and it was sometimes hard to remember what a rocky start they’d had when they’d reconnected. Looking back, he had no idea how she’d put up with him at all. Rocky was a kind word to describe how cold and surly he’d been with her.

But it had definitely smoothed out.

To be fair, they hadn’t exactly done anything. Other than a few compromising positions and some intimate moments charged with potential, there appeared to be a line between them; a line they were both tentative to cross. They’d flirt, and the flirting was starting to become a bit shameless, and the personal space between them had shrunk drastically. There were tiny touches now at almost every opportunity, to hands and arms and shoulders. She even let him touch her lekku on occasion, and he’d feel a gentle pulse of pleasure resonate from her. The same sort of pleasure he felt when she reached for his hand or leaned against his shoulder.

Though there hadn’t been anymore kisses, there was clearly something between them. Something growing out of their natural chemistry, and it was becoming harder and harder to remember why this was a bad idea. Why maybe going a little further, being more, might not be so bad. Sometimes, when they were alone, it felt like it was only a matter of time before either one of them made the decision to cross the line. Like they were just … waiting.

Only it was around that time he  _did_  remember why it was a bad idea. He was still the Reaper, and worse, the Empire now knew he was a Force user. That he and the Rider were Force users. Kanan wasn’t stupid, nor was he overly optimistic. Unless they stopped making mistakes soon, he and Ezra were going to be found out. The Empire would find them. Take them down.

And they would take Hera and the others down too.

On the nights his guilt beat at him more viciously, when his nightmares were raging through his mind and it was a struggle to control his terror, he sometimes considered the idea of just … picking up. Vanishing. Usually the fantasy included Ezra and Proxy. There was still so much he could teach Ezra, and it would be easy to pick up and leave without the  _Ghost_ crew ever finding out. They could start over. End their old aliases and develop new ones. New ones who could pick up the work of the Reaper and the Rider. Everything could go back to the way it was.

But sometimes those fantasies, they were lonely ones. Ones where he left _without_ Ezra and Proxy. Where he took the  _Kasmiri_  and vanished, alone. There was no doubting the positive effect Hera and the others were having on Ezra. They cared about the boy, and he knew Ezra cared about them. Kanan half-suspected an open invitation to join their crew was extended to his apprentice. They’d take him in. Give him a family he could trust and be a light in the galaxy with.

If Kanan left … at least this time Ezra would be able to take care of himself. He’d have people who could look out and take care of him too. The boy was good enough in the Force to survive. He had been for a year or two now. What Kanan had left to teach him were just specialized techniques. Ezra really could get on without him.

It would be safer that way. Death wouldn’t come for Ezra. Death wouldn’t come for any of them.

But what if it did, and Kanan wasn’t there?

It was the only thing that stopped those particular fantasies, even when he was half-packed and ready to go. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left and, because of him, they were all captured or killed in an effort to find him. Ezra perverted to the dark side. Hera and her crew tortured and used to lure him out. But this … all of this couldn’t go on forever. These good missions and happy times. They wouldn’t last. That was the way the world worked. It never lasted. And he had missions to do, Reaper missions. Missions Hera had made very clear she wanted no part of. They’d eventually have to part ways.

Somehow over the last few months, he’d maneuvered himself between a rock and a hard place, all because he’d let himself care again. He shouldn’t have done that. People died when he did that. It was a reality he confronted every night in his nightmares, and every morning when his guilt was strongest. Give up Hera, Ezra, and the crew, or don’t and risk their lives?

He snorted at himself disdainfully. He was selfish. So starved for whatever this was that existed between all of them, that he was apparently content to risk their lives.

Kanan didn’t know what he’d do when they actually died.

Idly, he found he was sliding his fingers along the datacard again, and he realized he did know what he’d do, if something happened to them. And it wouldn’t be anything good.

Now that he was looking at the card though, the itch which had faded to the background of his mind pulled forward again. It was stronger than before, insistent like worms writhing under his skin, and he was torn. He shouldn’t. He … he really shouldn’t. There was probably nothing on there anyway. Useless, boring stuff.

_Or something interesting._

Kanan eyed the datacard, and the itch pulled at something deep within him. Called to something dark and familiar he knew he should be more cautious of, but ignored. He found it was almost disturbingly easy to ignore, and the pull of the information on the datacard … what was the harm? Nothing would be on it anyway. He’d just satisfy his curiosity like he did in the city. That was it. He wasn’t going to do anything.

Before he could consider stopping, he slipped the card into the computer.

Kanan filtered the data. Hoping. Not hoping. This was just … checking. He didn’t … he didn’t  _want_  to find anything. It had been a cruiser, after all. Nothing special. There were only these sitreps and travel reports and supply orders, useless information, and—

Kanan’s eyes snagged. It was hard not to.

An image settled on the screen. An Imperial admiral. But it wasn’t the rank that got him. This was a nonhuman. A nonhuman Imperial admiral.

Now that wasn’t something you saw every day.

It was curiosity, not the itch, that caused him to study this strange officer. The admiral’s personal background was pretty bare. A singular name. His rank. The ship he commanded. It was all strange, given the Empire’s massive xenophobia, but what really hooked Kanan’s attention was this admiral’s mission records.

Success. Stunning success. Overwhelming success. Kanan checked the nonhuman’s information again and his heart raced with anticipation. This admiral, he’d advanced from the rank of lieutenant to admiral in roughly twelve years.  _Twelve years._

Disbelief swept through Kanan, and he knew he shouldn’t feel as impressed as he was. But he did. This man had a spectacular record, and had advanced that fast? Talk about a rising star. Wouldn’t it be something to take him out? But there was no way—

_Look again._

Kanan blinked a couple of times, a flicker of confusion tightening his brow at the sudden and unexpected thought, but he felt his attention focus again on the information. Only this time, it was as if his eyes were pulled to the perfect detail. A detail he hadn’t been anticipating. A detail he realized too late he hadn’t even wanted.

But it was the only thing the Reaper needed.

Coruscant. For several months now, this admiral had been back and forth between his ship and Coruscant like clockwork. Every time this nonhuman was particularly successful, it was back to Coruscant for a few days before he was out in the galaxy again.

And it appeared he was set to return to the Outer Rim tonight, protected by nothing more than his transport and the guards who escorted him.

Kanan’s thoughts grew hazy at the edges, but one clear thought emerged in his mind.

_They should have sent more protection. How easy it would be to attack the admiral in transit._

The thought swept through his mind, blanketing his thoughts. If he could take down this admiral now, before he could advance again — which he clearly would at this rate — he would deal quite a blow to the Empire. Someone that successful … that would be a true loss. And traveling back and forth between Coruscant as he was, that left openings. Vulnerabilities.

If Kanan was fast enough, if the Reaper was fast enough, he could intercept the transport. He could sneak aboard. Locate the admiral and—

Breathless, a plan fell together in his mind like a gift. And with the thick fog in his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to consider questioning it. There was no doubt there.

He could do this. Heat thrummed under Kanan’s palm with approval.

Surprise slipped through Kanan, slow and distant as if from far away, and when he looked down he saw skeletal black metal in his hands. His scythe rested there across his lap as if it had always been there, and his fingers traced its long lines as if he were stroking the spine of a Loth-cat.

That was odd. It should have been in the ceiling where he’d left it ages ago, out of sight and out of hand.

Shouldn’t it?

Curiously, he wondered when it had gotten there in his hands. He couldn’t … he couldn’t remember. A distant cold vein of dread spread down the length of his spine, and that was confusing. Why … why was he bothered? There was something wrong, he knew there was something wrong, but what it was—

Something tugged at his mind, warm and tempting and the cool dread vanished as his attention returned to the data on the monitor, his mind reorienting again. Why was he worried? The plan, it was right there, so clear and easy. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Not when he had prey to reap.  _Finally._

Kanan’s hold on his scythe tightened as a grin twitched at his lips, and he hardly felt the cloying heat that coiled around his body like armor.

Like a bind.

* * *

 

Ezra didn’t know what it was, but when he woke in the morning he knew something was different.

It was a quality in the Force, one he couldn’t quite pinpoint that just didn’t feel right. In the darkness of his room, he laid in bed and puzzled it over as he struggled to wake up. What _was_ it? He wasn’t sure, but there was something distinctly … uncomfortable about it.

He forced himself not to jump to conclusions. The Force, in his experience, did this. Shifted. Changed. Wiggled and moved like all living things did, but it always stabilized to normal eventually. Righted itself. Maybe that’s what really caught his attention, because the longer he lay unmoving, the longer that odd quality continued to nag at him.

When it didn’t normalize, Ezra got up to check.

Locating the anomaly quickly turned into a challenge, because no matter where he searched, he couldn’t find it. Was it something in the temple outside? Something on Lothal? He would’ve asked Kanan, but he’d found a note informing him his master had gone out to Capital City, and would be back soon. When Ezra couldn’t figure it out, he tried to ignore it, but ignoring it made the feeling that much worse. He found himself on his feet again, this time checking every nook and cranny he could think of as he ran scans on the base and surrounding areas.

Nothing.

Again and again, Ezra’s search came up blank, and instead of relieving him it did the opposite. It unnerved him and made his stomach roll with each passing minute. Like the very fact he was finding nothing was the problem.

There was no doubt in his mind now that something was wrong in the Force. Something was missing. Something important, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. How could you notice something that wasn’t there? Everything was right where it should have been. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Proxy was with the crew, Kanan was out in Capital City, he was here, alone in the base.

Well, alone with that thing, but—

Dread crashed through Ezra as he jerked his head back, eyes locked on the ceiling and the shadowy stone up above. Years here in the barracks living around Kanan’s scythe ensured he was always somewhat aware of it. Especially after the time it had tried to kill him. He was always slightly attuned to the Force weapon, a dark presence and tiny extension of Kanan himself.

Over the past few months, with his and Hera’s plan of distracting Kanan in full swing, Kanan’s direct attention on the thing had dwindled. Kanan had improved. His master didn’t begrudgingly go with him on missions anymore. Sometimes Kanan was even the one who set them up. More than a few times he’d returned with Kanan, and Kanan hadn’t even glanced up at the scythe like he always used to. It seemed like he’d started to forget. His Force presence had lightened.

Staring at the ceiling above, Ezra wondered if he’d been deluding himself. Maybe in his haste and hope to distance Kanan from his scythe, he’d instead distanced himself. Because the thing that was missing? It was the scythe. And before they’d ran into Hera and her crew all those months ago he’d have known the very moment Kanan pulled that monster from the base.

It had taken him so long to realize it was the scythe that was missing. His dread deepened. How long had it been gone?

Ice froze his blood as he stared at the note Kanan had left him. Ezra’s mind raced. Capital City? Kanan had gone to Capital City with the scythe to hunt? Impossible. He’d never be so stupid as to do that. That was practically begging the Empire to come right to their doorstep!

Kanan wouldn’t do that. But that meant this note, it had been a lie. A lie to keep Ezra from finding out what was going on.

And that … that was worse. Because now, Ezra couldn’t begin to imagine where Kanan had gone. It was a rule that Kanan always told him when he was planning an assassination. And even if he hadn’t told him, there was no way Ezra would miss Kanan’s prep-work when planning for one. After years together, Kanan’s method was unmistakable. His master couldn’t hide it if he tried.

Something was different about this time. Something wrong. And given the way Ezra had sometimes noticed the darkness gather more thickly around the scythe the few times he’d reluctantly checked on it recently, Ezra was terrified by what this change in behavior might mean.

Dashing for the control panel, Ezra quickly input commands to pull up footage from last night. He didn’t think Kanan knew, but Ezra had set up a camera to record the atrium a long time ago. To record his master, in case he started acting weird.

On the monitor, he watched as Kanan studied something, read whatever was on that datacard he’d gotten. He seemed engrossed. Focused, though that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary behavior.

Nausea rose in Ezra’s stomach, however, when one of Kanan’s hands rose. The motion was eerie, as if his arm was moving independent of the rest of his master’s body. Kanan didn’t appear to even notice, his eyes locked on the screen, and whatever it was he was reading.

A thin, dark shape flew into his palm a moment later, the scythe fully extended. Kanan hadn’t spared it a glance at all as he’d laid it across his lap. When he finally did see at the weapon, a slight look of surprise flickered across his face.

It didn’t last, though. His attention returned to the whatever was on the screen, but from the angle the camera was at … it looked like Kanan was smiling.

Kanan stood after that, and turned, the scythe clutched tightly in his palm. Fear flooded Ezra and he couldn’t tear his eyes away when his master paused in the recording to lift his eyes and look directly at the camera. Ezra felt pinned.

His master winked, and the smile there on his lips was cruel and triumphant. Then he casually walked out of the camera’s range.

Sick, Ezra couldn’t watch anymore and scrambled for his comlink. Scared as he was, he tried for Kanan, even if deep down he knew it wouldn’t work.

“Kanan! Kanan, where are you? Kanan, come in!”

Nothing. The comm-silence made the ancient chamber around him feel massive and haunted. It made him feel alone.

Ezra activated his comlink again with trembling fingers, this time calling for someone else. Someone he prayed could help.

“Hera,” Ezra said, but even though air had passed his lips, the word hadn’t been born. His mouth was dry, the fear strangling his voice, and when he finally called out Hera’s name it bordered on a scream. “Hera!”

“Ezra? What is it?” Hera’s voice asked as she responded a moment later. “What’s wrong?”

Ezra’s heart staggered as he tried to regain his composure. But all he could think of was Kanan alone. Kanan out there somewhere with that monster of a weapon he hadn’t touched in months.

He saw that wink in his mind. He saw that smile that hadn’t been his master’s. He saw those eyes that were not Kanan’s.

Terror threatened to crest over Ezra again, and though he heard Hera call his name, this time with growing alarm, he forced himself to close his eyes and breath. To center himself. To control his emotions like Kanan had taught him, and focus. He was stronger than his fear, no matter how it thrashed and threatened to undo him. Kanan had trained him, and no matter what was going on, Ezra clung to his master’s training.

He had to.

“Ezra!”

“Kanan’s gone, Hera,” he finally said as he started moving, sweeping whatever he could think of into a bag and onto his belt before he started running for the exit. “So is his scythe. I don’t know where he went.” His voice choked, but he forced the words out anyway. “It’s bad, Hera.”

The silence of the comlink somehow overwhelmed the howling wind in his ears, and the sound of Hera’s voice when it came next meant the world to him.

“Get to the  _Ghost_ ,” she said in a tone that left no room for argument. “How fast can you get here?”

“I’m taking the—” Ezra’s words died when he exited the temple barracks. He’d fully expected to find the  _Escape_  ominously alone, but it was the  _Kasmiri_  instead that rested in solitude. The  _Kasmiri_.

Kanan never took the  _Escape_ , not when the  _Kasmiri_  was there. And he suspected he knew why. The  _Escape_  was faster. The fact Kanan had gone in for speed tore at him. Everything was going from bad to worse.

“Ezra?”

“I’m coming in the  _Kasmiri_ ,” Ezra said quickly as he boarded and dashed for the pilot’s seat. He was in the air a moment later, the  _Kasmiri’s_ thruster’s screaming. “He took the  _Escape_.”

“I’m sending you our coordinates. We’re close by.”

“Already on my way,” Ezra replied as he input the coordinates and made the jump to lightspeed the moment he could. This was … this was horrible. Everything had been going so well, Kanan had been _better_ , and now this?

Had anything he and Hera and the crew had done these last several months, had any of it meant anything? Or had it only made things worse?

Ezra didn’t know. All he did know was that the sinking feeling in his gut was getting stronger. He needed to find Kanan. He needed to find Kanan _now_ and somehow make him give up that scythe. But how? He didn’t know that either. But after what he’d seen? It had to go. It had to go  _now_.

When he came out of hyperspace and saw the  _Ghost_  waiting for him, it was all he could do to wait until the docking was finished before he raced on board. Everyone was already waiting for him. Ezra’s eyes found Proxy.

“Did you give Kanan a datacard?”

“No,” Proxy replied nervously. “Not recently.”

Kanan’s lie from last night stung. He’d been himself then, and he’d lied about the card when Ezra had noticed Kanan fiddling with it. Ezra should have known. He should have _known_.

“Ezra?”

“I think he’s being controlled or influenced by his scythe,” Ezra told Hera. “I caught some footage and, Hera. We need to find him.”

Ezra waited for Hera to ask for more information. To demand to see the footage herself so she could make a judgement call too, but all she did was nod.

“All right. Do you have any leads?”

Ezra focused on his breath to stop his anxiety from rising again and cutting him off from the Force. If he was going to find Kanan, he needed a clear mind, and he needed access to the Force.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “I have no idea where he is.”

“I know where Kanan is,” Sabine said seriously, and all eyes turned to her. Ezra gaped at her, unsure if he’d really heard her, or if he’d just imagined her telling him the best news he’d ever heard in his life.

“What?”

“You two weren’t the only ones worried about him,” Sabine said as her fingers blazed across a datapad. “Zeb and I were talking to him once about some of his assassinations, and we got worried. So, once while we were at your base, I had Zeb distract Kanan while I hid a tracker in his armor.”

“He might have found it,” Ezra breathed, disgusted he was playing the devil’s advocate. The blood in his ears was loud. He could hardly hear her speak. “He would have found it.”

Sabine’s face twisted. “I don’t think so Ezra.”

“Well, why not?” Ezra exploded. How could she know? How could she  _know_?

“Because my tracker? It’s telling me he’s still in the Outer Rim. And he’s moving fast toward Imperial space.” She lifted the datapad and Ezra stared with an odd mixture of relief and horror when he saw she was right.

“We need to go after him before he gets wherever he’s going,” Ezra declared, staring at the  _Ghost_  crew around him desperately. “ _Please_ , you have to help me. He’s going to get himself killed.”

Or worse.

Ezra swallowed around the bile that climbed up his throat.

“We’re going to help, Ezra,” Hera said, her features firm. “We all are. He’s our friend too. We’ll find him.”

“That’s right,” Zeb said as he dropped a clawed hand on Ezra’s shoulder. Ezra didn’t know how the Lasat did it, but the tactile weight of Zeb’s hand there made him feel less like he was about to blow away. It made him feel more stable. Grounded. “Besides. He’s the Reaper. It’ll be hard for anyone to take him down.”

Ezra resisted the urge to tell Zeb that, though it was a concern, it wasn’t his biggest one. Kanan could fight. He could survive. Ezra knew that better than anyone. But with the scythe? With that thing whispering to Kanan? Pushing him to go further and further into the darkness?

When they found Kanan, how much of his master would be left this time?

If there was any of him still left at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we’re stepping into the final movement of the story. As I said, Kanan’s had a good time with the crew, but he’s had this corrosive Force weapon for way longer. Y’all knew he was gonna slip ;] Now it’s a question of how far, and I hope you’re holding on tight because this ride won’t be over for a while yet. That being said, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> On a separate note, y’all know when I said way back when that a certain Chiss wasn’t going to appear for real in this story? That he’d be just a cameo I couldn’t resist putting in? I lied. I just hadn’t known it at the time.
> 
> So be prepared. You know who’s coming in the next chapter.
> 
> As always, a great place to check for status updates/news on Blackbird is [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). Till next week :]


	25. Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first thing. It’s kinda important. The Thrawn I chose to write as is Timothy Zahn’s Thrawn in his novel: Thrawn. I’ve always felt that Zahn’s Thrawn and Rebel’s Thrawn are slightly different, and since Thrawn was created by Zahn, I chose his rendition. If you think he’s a little ooc, that might be why, but I hope it won’t turn you off from the chapter.
> 
> Also, I used a character from the Thrawn novel named Eli Vanto. Vanto is Thrawn’s personal aide, and has been his aid ever since Thrawn joined the Empire (so in this story for twelve years). He’s basically the Watson to Thrawn’s Sherlock (or his Moriarty, but you get what I mean).
> 
> I did a lot of new and different things with this chapter. I hope you’ll like it. Enjoy!

Admiral Thrawn considered the holoprojection of the Hurolite sector and the data compiled on the datapad in his hand. He was seated alone in the spare office Captain Solano had reluctantly provided for his and Commander Vanto’s use while aboard the Imperial command cruiser,  _Razormoth_.

Their presence here was an impromptu one. Unanticipated. Though he was intent on returning to the  _Chimaera_  after his most recent trip to Coruscant, a request from Imperial High Command had caused him to detour for a day after their last stop to refuel. They wished for him to provide Captain Solano support in locating a band of pirates harassing the sector and disrupting its shipment of Poetie gunk, a surprising substance capable of being refined into a valuable shipbuilding material. A shipbuilding material the Empire desired.

For the sake of the Empire, Thrawn had agreed.

Though Captain Solano had maintained his professional bearing, it was clear from his rigid posture and sluggish aid that he believed the assistance Thrawn might provide was both unwanted and unnecessary. The captain exuded arrogance. Pride. Thrawn had heard of this particular captain a time or two and had already anticipated his grudging reluctance.

That was why, after boarding and checking the  _Razormoth’s_  records for verification, he provided the captain with two potential coordinates which Thrawn suspected might house these pirates. Both locations were within distance of a planet or moon which maintained limited Imperial presence. Both were also located not far from either gunk mines or shipment facilities. Both, Commander Vanto had pointed out when Thrawn had prompted his aide for an analysis, displayed a rise in price for secondary materials used in gunk refinement in the markets of those regions.

Thrawn had assured Captain Solano that in a handful of hours, he’d have a better idea of which was the correct location. Yet, with headings to explore and pride driving his behavior, the captain had wasted no time sending out TIEs to both locations for reconnaissance. Solano also lost no time abandoning Thrawn to his office, content instead to funnel all communications through Vanto, much to Vanto’s muted displeasure.

But the arrangement was necessary as Thrawn continued to study the data the  _Razormoth_  had collected these last few months. Vanto would keep him updated on any news Solano’s TIEs reported back with. Thrawn would adjust as needed, with minimal distraction.

Vanto’s report had been as he’d expected, when it came not long after. There was evidence of a base on the moon at the first coordinate site, along with a ship that had been identified as belonging to the pirates. Plans were already being made to attack and apprehend the pirates there. Thrawn’s assistance was concluded.

Vanto’s second report, however, had been unexpected. The TIEs assigned to the second location had failed to report in as directed, and after some investigation a distress beacon was found. Evidence of battle filled the area around the broken TIE when Solano ordered the  _Razormoth_  to the location. Thrawn thought it was possible there might be a secondary base located there as well, one more heavily guarded than the first. There was some data to suggest this, though he hadn’t given it much consideration. It hadn’t fit the overall pattern.

It was why he was still studying the projection, trying to make sense of the data as he waited for Vanto to report on any information the pilot of the salvaged TIE might give them concerning the battle. His conclusions had begun to shift as alternative ideas presented themselves in his mind. The possibility of an unseen threat. One they had not prepared for.

When Vanto commed him next, he could not say he was surprised by the report.

“Sir, Captain Solano’s just been found murdered, along with three members of the bay crew who were in charge of overseeing the TIE.” Vanto’s voice was strained. Concerned. “Sir, they’ve been decapitated. All of them. I believe you’re in danger. This … this looks like the work of—”

“Estimated time of death?” Thrawn cut Vanto off, his tone cool and firm, leaving no room for flair or excess now that a threat had indeed revealed itself.

“Guards estimate five minutes ago.”

A slight tightening between Thrawn’s shoulder blades was the only physical response he allowed himself to feel as he mentally mapped the routes from the hanger bay to the office he resided in now. His calculations were sure. There was no time to retreat, nor to arm himself any better than he currently was. He pressed the distress beacon on his comm and readied his blaster. Prepared himself for battle as he quieted his mind and waited.

He did not have to wait long. Thrawn calmly turned when the door to his office hissed open, revealing not a stormtrooper or Imperial, but a dark shadow.

The figure stood inside the doorway and, as the door slid shut, that figure reached behind itself to pull a contraption from its back. With a jarring motion, the object expanded, and a skeletal scythe was made. Only silence existed in the space between them. Silence, and the weight of what might come next.

Thrawn recalled the many rumors and reports he’d heard over the years serving as an Imperial officer. They’d been elaborate and mythical when he’d first heard them during his short tenure at Royal Imperial Academy. But even as he’d advanced through the ranks, elements of those tales repeated. Repeated enough he could trust some of the details. Thrawn narrowed his gaze as he studied his opponent. Black clad. Sleek lines. Avian helm design. Male. Humanoid in appearance, though it failed to give much indication as to the species beneath.

There was no doubt in his mind. 

“You’re the Reaper,” Thrawn said, noting the small shift in the Reaper’s body. The constriction of his fists on his weapon. The coil of muscles. “I take it I am your target.”

“You got it.” Filtered voice. Hard. Determined. In truth, Thrawn had not expected a response. “I imagine the Empire would hate to lose an officer who’s bursting through the ranks like you are.”

“I imagine they might.”

Thrawn studied the man again, the Reaper, and his brow tightened with a minuscule twitch as he drew up everything he could remember about the ghost story of the Imperial officers. There wasn’t much to recall. They were short and fleeting, little more than a collection of casualty reports and unsupported theories, and the rumors revealed more about those who told them, than the Reaper himself.

But the method. The manner in which other officers had succumbed to death at the hands of this man, there was a pattern there. A strict pattern that had encountered little deviation since the vigilante had gone active. There were no clear images, no audio recordings, no survivors. The pattern was always clean and well organized. Planned. Meticulous.

What was happening now did not follow that pattern. Thrawn needed more information to reestablish elements of a pattern so he could determine his next move. Create a plan.

Above that, however, he needed more time.

“You’re oddly calm for someone who’s about to lose his head,” the Reaper said as he began to advance, boxing Thrawn in. It was a disadvantageous position. Thrawn’s hand dropped to his blaster where it was hidden under the desk. “I wouldn’t do that, Admiral.”

Interesting. Though possible the Reaper had read his movements, his motion toward the blaster had been subtle. Too subtle. Thrawn stood slowly and wondered if it had anything to do with the more recent rumors he’d heard about the assassin.

That the Reaper was a Force user.

“Where is your partner?” Thrawn probed. “I believe it’s rare your work is independent from one another. For a target of my rank, the Rider should be here.”

The Reaper chuckled. The sound was harsh.

“I don’t need him to take you down. As a matter of fact, he’d only get in the way.” The assassin rotated his wrist and the scythe whispered through the air. “Besides, I thought I’d keep this nice and intimate.”

Time was short and an attack was imminent. The size of the room and the desk between them would hinder a weapon as large and cumbersome as that, but blocking the doorway as the assassin was, it wouldn’t require much to land a deadly strike. All Thrawn had was a blaster. Like this, he would not make it out of the room. Not alive.

More time. He needed more time.

“I will give you one opportunity to surrender,” Thrawn declared, mind calculating. “If you do so, I will ensure no harm comes to you and that you are met with a fair trial.”

“There is no fair in the Empire.” The Reaper’s tone lowered. The line of his shoulders and body changed. Lethal. Predatory. “That’s why I’m here. To fix things. Even the odds.”

Thrawn considered his enemy. “No. That’s not why you’re here. You’re here to kill. This isn’t about tipping any perceived balances.”

The hiss in the Reaper’s tone was sharp. A warning. Anger.

Good.

“What makes you think that, Admiral?”

Thrawn straightened, lifting his chin despite the threat to his neck.

“Because if you were here to make the point you’ve always made, you’d have done so by now. You would not be speaking with me. You would not be playing games with me. You would be efficient, not needlessly cruel.” Thrawn’s brow furrowed as he calculated again. Just a little more time. One more question. “I do not understand why.”

“Why what? The change?” the Reaper growled, and there was an animated tone to his words now. Glee. “I just wanted a bit of fun. I thought you’d be great for that, with your stunning reputation.”

“Perhaps.”

Thrawn drew his blaster and rapidly fired three shots. The Reaper reacted immediately with a defensive posture, his scythe whirling to block and absorb the rounds as he sprang back a few feet. The door was now unguarded, and Thrawn sprinted forward as he fired another bolt.

This time, the scythe didn’t consume the bolt like it had the first few shots. Instead it reflected it back. Thrawn threw himself to the side to avoid injury, but it struck his blaster instead, sending it flying away to strike the door with a clatter.

Thrawn looked up in time to watch the Reaper’s hand rise. A chuckle filled the air again, this time with sardonic mirth.

“I told you not to.”

Pressure built around Thrawn’s neck as he was lifted, choked as if by an invisible hand. One he could not pry off. One which was forcing his chin higher, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. Thrawn estimated he had half a lungful of air left. Perhaps a full minute of consciousness, should he last that long. Already his vision was starting to fray at the edges. Judging from the way the Reaper now gripped his scythe, the Force hold on Thrawn still solid and strong, he suspected he did not have a minute.

Fortunately, he did not need it. The door to the office hissed open again and a familiar figure graced the door. Vanto. Right on time.

“Hey! Let him go!”

Blaster fire followed as Vanto and a stormtrooper shot at the Reaper, breaking his concentration. The shots missed, but it was enough. The invisible hold on Thrawn vanished, and he dropped to the floor. Rolling forward, he reached out to curl his hand around the hilt to his blaster where it had fallen. When he rose, he added a steady burst to the ones already flying through the air, pinning the Reaper down.

For the moment.

The Reaper snarled, searching for an opening. There were none, however, with so much blaster fire to hold back. Thrawn shot the activation panel once they were clear, locking the door in place.

Commander Vanto stumbled back as the tip of the Reaper’s blade pierced the door an instant later. Burned flesh filled the air as the stormtrooper screamed before launching herself forward, a burning hole melted into the back of her plastoid armor where it had found momentary purchase. The metal surrounding the blade glowed yellow and bright with heat. Whatever that weapon was, the door wouldn’t keep the Reaper contained forever.

They needed to go.

“Fall back,” Thrawn told the trooper before gesturing to Vanto. “This way.”

Years together ensured Vanto followed immediately, and they took off at a run. Alarms wailed, troops rallied and began laying down cover fire behind them as the Reaper burst through. Chaos reigned.

Thrawn began piecing together a plan.

“Report.”

“Still three casualties, including Captain Solano. Maybe more since we don’t know what happened to the pilots who’d been on reconnaissance here. It appears he infiltrated the ship through the TIE we found emitting the distress beacon. Took the guards in the bay by surprise, and caught Solano on the way. Was that really the Reaper?”

“I believe so,” Thrawn replied, noting the strain in Vanto’s voice again. Worse than before. As the ranking officers on the ship, Thrawn was not the only one in danger, though he suspected that wasn’t what bothered Vanto. The threat to Thrawn’s life had been sudden and unexpected. It was only because of Vanto that he was even alive at all, and it was clear they were still in very real danger. Thrawn was still in very real danger.

But perhaps, not as much danger as Vanto might think.

“Come. We must move quickly.”

“You have a plan, sir?” A faint edge of relief replaced the strain before it strengthened with resolute confidence. Faith. Trust. “What do you need me to do?”

They paused around a corner, and though the sound of blaster fire and shouting was close, indicating the Reaper’s advancing position, Thrawn remained calm.

“Listen,” he told Vanto before he gave Vanto his instructions.

Vanto listened carefully and, once Thrawn was finished, nodded with a frown. “It’s risky, sir. He’s after you, and he’s moving fast. I doubt he’ll even hesitate if he catches you again. It doesn’t give us a whole lot of time.”

“I will do what I can to ensure you have the time you need,” Thrawn replied. “I will let you know when he’s in position.”

The faintest flicker of reluctance flashed across Vanto’s eyes, but vanished just as quickly. They hardened. Determination sat there now, along with the knowledge that Thrawn’s life was in Vanto’s hands again.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

Vanto turned and ran, keying his comlink before barking orders into it, ordering a withdraw. Implementing the first phase. The effect was immediate. The blast doors began to shut along the corridor, one by one. The one between himself and Commander Vanto closed and locked.

Plan in motion, Thrawn lifted his blaster and listened carefully. There was limited blaster fire now. Less axillary movement to distract him.

One pair of footsteps snapped through the air, and Thrawn measured them and judged the Reaper’s pace. Judged how fast the assassin could move, and how fast Thrawn would have to move to stay ahead. He couldn’t be so far ahead that the Reaper noticed Thrawn’s plan, but he had to be close enough to tempt. To distract. A fast pace, then. Additionally, he’d need to engage the Reaper twice, if he was to give Vanto the time he required.

The Reaper appeared around the corner, his scythe radiating heat as he surged forward.

Thrawn retreated and mentally mapped the longest route possible while planning the location for two optimal spots of engagement. He lifted his blaster, fired, and took off at a run.

The Reaper, as anticipated, followed.

* * *

 

Kanan felt good. No. Not good. Better than good.

He felt  _great_. Amazing.

He was out. He was moving. Encased in the shell of the Reaper as he was, his scythe warm and present in his hand as his prey fled in his wake, Kanan felt exactly like his namesake. How had he gone months without this? This … freedom? This expansion of his abilities and test of his skill?

Why had he ever let that Jedi brat and Twi’lek whore convince him to do anything other than what he was clearly meant to do?

It had all been so … easy, despite the hitches in his plan. The admiral hadn’t stayed on his lambda like he’d been supposed to, and instead had boarded the  _Razormoth_  for one reason or another. Kanan knew that if those do-gooding annoyances had been here, they’d have attempted to convince him to call the hit off. Let Admiral Thrawn slip away because circumstances had changed. Be safe.

Kanan laughed at his past self. Safe? No. No, he should never have played it safe. He should have tested himself. Been bold and daring, like he had been when he was younger.

And it was incredible how successful he was when he flew solo.

The hardest part had been getting onto the ship, but it hadn’t been that hard in the end. Not long after the admiral had boarded the cruiser, TIEs had been deployed. All he’d done was follow one pair, flank and attack them, fly close enough to use the Force to knock out the remaining pilot, commandeer the TIE, hide the  _Escape_ , and send out a distress beacon. The  _Razormoth_  had come not long after and used the tractor beam to pull him into place, docking his TIE.

Easy. So easy.

Even with the guards who’d been stationed in the hanger bay had posed no threat when he’d burst through like a wraith. Much as he’d have liked to linger, he dealt with them swiftly, as well as — as luck would have it — the captain of the ship, who’d been unfortunate enough to be on the way. Not that it would have mattered. The admiral wouldn’t be the only one graced by the Reaper tonight.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

Locating Admiral Thrawn hadn’t taken long at all, with the aid of the Force. It hummed around him, violent and encouraging, and though the nonhuman oddity had tried to talk his way out of death, pull a fast one on him — foolish Imperials — Kanan had had Thrawn in his grasp, throat exposed and just waiting for the blade.

Impossibly, the admiral had managed to escape. Or, at least, worm away for the moment. Aid had come and his prey had taken his opening, like all prey did. Kanan couldn’t find it within himself to begrudge the Imperial officer all that much. After all, he didn’t want the game to end too quickly. Nothing was better than a game of cat and mouse, and there was nowhere to hide.

Not from him. Not when he had his Force sight locked on the nonhuman like a godly, all-seeing eye.

Blaster fire blazed around him, and with ease he hadn’t experienced in a long time, he danced out of the way. It was effortless. A dance within the chaos of battle. Blaster fire from the admiral. Blaster fire from the Imperials hiding behind semi-closed blast doors, all of whom were too terrified to engage him outright. He could feel their fear in the Force like ambrosia. Once he took care of the admiral, he’d take out everyone else because, why not? He should stop playing safe. Why stop at high-ranking officers, when he could redefine the Reaper completely?

He should kill entire crews. Everything that lived on a ship. Individuals, they didn’t send a big enough message. Whole crews? That did. He would destroy crews now, but leave the ships. They’d be husks and floating graveyards in the wake of the Reaper, primed for the ghosts that would linger and haunt them.

“You can’t run, Admiral,” Kanan said as he spun out of the way of several other blaster bolts. They were centimeters from grazing him. Not even centimeters. He could feel their heat like phantom flashes of concentrated energy.

It made his heart race. He couldn’t remember feeling so alive.

Admiral Thrawn said nothing, merely shot at him from a distance, attempting to gain some ground, but Kanan wasn’t letting him. Kanan blocked with his scythe, allowing the black metal to absorb the shot and he grinned under his helmet. He was catching up. Slowly but surely, he was bridging the distance as this so-called ‘brilliant’ admiral ran for his life, just like any other target had. In the end, these Imperials were all the same.

Not that Kanan had a problem with that.

“It would be easier if you stopped now,” Kanan called again, elation edging his words. Elation he didn’t bother to hide. “It’s really a fast death, if you think about it. One quick slice. I haven’t had to do a double-take in over a decade, you know. I know exactly how much pressure I need to cut through your vertebrae.”

Kanan swung his scythe as he lunged. The admiral was quick and dodged. His scythe hissed through the air with a haunting howl, and though it was a swing and a miss, Kanan wasn’t bothered. In due time. This was fun. He never had this much fun on a mission.

“You do have vertebrae, right?” he questioned nonchalantly as the nonhuman backed away. “I mean, you look human enough. Must be human enough if you somehow managed to convince the Empire to hire you.”

Admiral Thrawn said nothing in response, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped and Kanan’s grin grew into a smirk. It appeared the admiral had boxed himself in because this hallway was a dead end. There was nowhere to go, and though the officer had his blaster raised he didn’t shoot, not anymore. Maybe he was smart after all, and knew there was no point in fighting him now? That would be a first.

“How about this?” Kanan said as he carelessly twisted the scythe about his body, building up deadly momentum. “You stand still, just like you are, and human or not I’ll hit you with all I’ve got. The end will be quick. Maybe painless.”

“And if I choose to resist?” Admiral Thrawn asked in a quiet voice. “What then?”

The temptation to rip off his helmet for an instant, to show the Imperial his smile and drive what he said next home, was strong. But that was a foolish decision. He still wanted freedom to do missions later. Revealing his face would make it easier for the Empire to find him then. He’d just have to make do.

_And Ezra—_

Kanan shoved the thought back ruthlessly, refusing to let it manifest in full. Instead he gave his target his undivided attention. The main event was about to happen. He didn’t want any distractions, least of all from that simpering side of him.

“You resist, and I will make it slow. You think I didn’t notice what you were doing back there? Cutting me off from your men? I’m guessing you don’t want anything to happen to them, do you?” Kanan lifted an eyebrow, though the admiral couldn’t see it. Then he got serious.

“I’ll promise you this, Admiral. You resist, and you’ll be the last one I kill. I’ll kill everyone else, nice and slow, before I even get to you. And when I get to you?” Kanan trailed off, but let the abrupt stop of his scythe punctuate his meaning. The air snapped with the heat. “I’ve heard you’re pretty smart. I’ll let you think on that one.”

“I see,” Admiral Thrawn said in the same quiet voice he’d used earlier. He lowered his blaster, and Kanan could not believe his luck. Too easy. Too kriffing _easy_. He was made for this.

Only Thrawn didn’t just lower his blaster. Admiral Thrawn lifted his comlink, his posture suddenly confident and eyes oddly composed. He regarded Kanan like a curiosity, one who hadn’t spent the last several minutes hunting him down.

“Now, Commander Vanto.”

Too late Kanan realized where the admiral had placed himself. An instant later blast doors locked down all around Kanan, locking and ceiling the admiral and the rest of the crew safely away. Kanan was stuck. Locked in this tiny compartment of the ship after having just walked himself into a trap.

But not for long.

Rage poured through Kanan’s blood as he sliced at the metal separating him from his target. A glowing slash of heated metal was left in its wake, crisscrossing as he continued to attack and slice. But the doors were thick. It would take time to get through that way.

Mind racing and half-blinded by fury, he paced, considering his next move. He had to be fast. His prey was getting away, and if he didn’t figure something out now, the tides might turn and that was unacceptable! He would not get caught! He would not!

_Because if he did, Ezra and the crew would—_

Kanan roared and slashed at the ground, banishing his thoughts again as he tested the floor, but all that was left was a burning slash which didn’t do him any good either. He checked his pouch, groping wildly. A grin crawled across his face as he felt something round. A grenade. One the Mandalorian girl had given him some time ago.

That would certainly help.

Kanan yanked it out, preparing to detonate it. He didn’t give two flying fracks that the space he was contained in was so small he’d take some sort of recoil himself for the bomb’s use. That hardly mattered. Getting to Thrawn, that did. He was an instant away from detonating it when he froze, something in the Force blaring a warning. His thumb hovered — if only barely — over the detonator. Something was wrong, but what? Why was the Force reacting like this?

Kanan didn’t know, and he almost convinced himself he’d imagined it. But he checked again, his reason rising for the briefest of moments. His eyes widened as he saw with his Force sight what he hadn’t been able to see before with his attention so focused on Thrawn.

A pair of jumptroopers were outside, on the hull of the cruiser right above him. Their jetpacks carried them away from where they’d been patiently waiting. Alarm shot like lightning through his blood as he sensed two dense collections of grenades attached to the hull.

Disbelief ripped through Kanan. They were about to space him.

His mind whirled, his Force sight sweeping out and around him, looking for a way out. His helmet wasn’t capable of protecting him from the vacuum of space. If they popped a hole in the hull and he was sucked out, he’d die. The end. Now he saw what the admiral had done. The nonhuman hadn’t trapped Kanan to give himself room to escape. He’d enclosed Kanan with every intention of turning the tides and killing him.

Some dark, morbid part of him had to admit there was something to be said that he was threat enough that even capture wasn’t an option. The admiral, to save his skin, had gone directly for elimination. A spark of heady pride swelled in Kanan’s chest.

Only thing was, Kanan wasn’t quite ready to die just yet. Not when he was out again. Not when he’d just regained his freedom. And it appeared luck was on his side. There were two escape pods behind him, and though the activation panel for one of them was smoking, the other appeared perfectly fine.

Seemed Admiral Thrawn wasn’t as brilliant as all those reports had led him to believe. He’d unknowingly trapped Kanan with access to an escape pod.

Oh, the Force smiled on him, all right. He might survive this, yet.

With only seconds to spare, Kanan turned and threw himself into the escape pod, locked the hatch, and ejected. The cruiser surged away. An instant later the compartment he’d just vacated exploded, breaching the hull. If he’d still been in there, he would have died.

He hoped his luck would hold and that the admiral would believe he’d died himself. Long enough, at least, for Kanan to reach the  _Escape_  before they realized he hadn’t been killed. Alternatively, he could try to reboard the cruiser. Somehow take another go at the admiral, show him there was no killing the Reaper and repay him double for the attempt—!

Kanan almost fell on his face when his pod jerked to a stop. Confusion broke through his racing thoughts as he tried to figure out just … just what was happening. His Force sight adjusted, shifted. His blood ran cold.

Tractor beam. He was already caught in the cruiser’s tractor beam.

Hurling himself forward, Kanan threw himself into the pilot’s seat to figure something out. To take control of the pod, send a message,  _something_. But that was when he realized the magnitude of his situation. Smoke rose from the console in front of him as it sparked, the span of it littered with blaster bolt marks.

Or, more specifically, the marks littered the necessary circuits and command controls needed for flight, to establish communications, and otherwise jury rig any usefulness out of the pod past its life-support system. He was stuck again, and this was worse. He was trapped in a useless pod, and these bolt marks, they were too specific. Too … intentional.

Silence filled his mind as he realized what was going on, and why the Imperials had already caught him in a tractor beam they shouldn’t have even had ready yet.

Rage flared again, and it was all he could do not to lash out with his scythe, but his reason and self-preservation held. Popping the seal on his escape pod while it hung in space would mean suicide. Since the pod couldn’t move, couldn’t contact anyone, couldn’t  _anything_  except hold him, he realized what this was.

An improvised cell. One he’d willingly thrown himself into.

The admiral hadn’t been able to outrun him on the cruiser, and couldn’t capture him there if he tried. So instead he’d maneuvered Kanan into a cell which could hold him. What he’d thought had been a cat and mouse chase, him toying with his frightened Imperial prey, that had been a ruse.

Too late, he saw that the only prey on board that ship had been himself. And now? He’d been caught. There was no way out of this, except if he popped open the pod and spaced himself. He’d brought no comlink. No tools besides the ones needed for assassination. The brat didn’t even know where he was.

The pod’s comm clicked, and Kanan snarled at it.

“You will find escape impossible, unless you desire death,” a quiet voice said through a crackling speaker. The voice of Admiral Thrawn. “Everything except life-support systems have been destroyed and disabled.”

“Pull me back in then,” Kanan growled, prowling the tiny space he had to himself, his hands wrapped relentlessly around the burning metal in his hands. “Be a fool. Pull me back in and I promise, I won’t play games with you next time. I’ll only need a second, and then I’ll make you bleed.”

“I suggest you make yourself comfortable,” the admiral continued, oblivious of Kanan’s threat. “Until the proper authorities arrive, you will remain where you are.”

The comm clicked off, and Kanan howled, his hands tightened on the blazing metal again. Maybe he should space himself? Accept death to spare his pride. Take away the prize the admiral had just won for himself.

As the tractor beam drew him closer to the cruiser, careful to keep him suspended below the ship within the vacuum of space, the option grew in appeal.

He would have done it too, if motion in the Force hadn’t snagged his attention. A ship. A ship coming in fast. A familiar ship, one that was now firing on the accompaniment of TIEs that had been deployed to act as his guards. He could not believe it. The Jedi runt.

Kanan’s chest squeezed.  _Ezra_.

Anger abated, replacing itself with grudging amazement. The brat had come. He was here, taking out the TIEs that attempted to keep him trapped within the tractor beam. Perhaps he’d written the boy off too fast. Once the little Jedi came and freed him, they could both board the cruiser. They could both find the Imperial officers and, after he beheaded Thrawn, he would force the boy to kill off everyone else. It was past time the runt gave up those foolish notions of light and goodness, and joined him instead. Joined him in the darkness. Together, they could embrace the dark side. They’d be strong. Strong and powerful. Together they could do whatever they wanted. Take down the Empire, destroy the Emperor, take control of the Empire themselves, and—!

Kanan’s thoughts stuttered as he watched what was unfolding around him again, and this time his excitement bled quickly into disbelief, then to complete outrage. The brat, he was taking out the TIEs all right, but with all eyes turned on the little Jedi, Kanan with all his sight almost missed the second ship that was coming in shadow-fast.

The  _Ghost_.

Kanan’s chest squeezed again.  _Hera_.

“No,” Kanan gritted out as he wrangled control of his body and thoughts again, suddenly understanding exactly what was going on. “No!”

Yes.

The  _Ghost_  twisted, its turret curving around until it and the nose guns could land direct hits on the tractor beam projector while dodging volley after volley of laser fire. The tractor beam flickered and went down, causing the pod to shift and drift in place. But not for long. The  _Ghost_  flipped, its underside exposed for an instant as it flew by close enough for the magnetic lock to catch the pod against its belly.

Kanan was thrown around violently, tumbling to his feet as he forced his scythe to collapse down lest he kill himself. Struggling, he scrambled to his feet again and gazed out in the Force to see what was happening. The brat was peeling off. The brat made the jump to lightspeed, and Kanan swore.

Around him the stars bled with pseudomotion as the  _Ghost_  made the jump to hyperspace an instant later. The last thing Kanan saw was the  _Razormoth_ , alive and strong. Admiral Thrawn still alive.

He’d failed.

Kanan screamed.

* * *

 

Hours after the attack on the  _Razormoth_ , Admiral Thrawn stood with Commander Vanto as they both watched their guest take one final look about Thrawn’s former office.

The Grand Inquisitor’s yellow eyes gleamed. The pull of his lips hinted at a faint smirk. He appeared … invigorated. Pleased.

Thrawn refused to lift his gaze from the Pau’an.

“Is that everything?” the Grand Inquisitor asked as he turned back to them. Beside Thrawn, Vanto stiffened slightly. Discomfort. Vanto did not approve of this man’s presence on the ship. Hadn’t, since he’d arrived an hour earlier to conduct his investigation after receiving news of the Reaper.

“It is,” Thrawn agreed as he gestured the Grand Inquisitor out of the room. “If you’d like, I can arrange for copies of the footage we gathered here today be prepared, so you may view them at your convenience.”

“Your cooperation is appreciated, Admiral. You may send them to Coruscant, where the Inquisitorius will begin reviewing them.” The Grand Inquisitor’s yellow eyes flicked toward Thrawn. The smirk was mostly gone, but it lingered in the creases of his eyes. “You should consider yourself fortunate. You’re the first target the Reaper has failed to … collect in some time. And certainly the first to come so close to his capture.”

“As you say,” Thrawn said.

“How did you manage?”

Thrawn looked to Vanto. “Commander Vanto?”

Vanto’s shoulders straightened as he organized his thoughts, preparing to perform the action Thrawn had delegated to him over the years.

“It’s simple really,” Vanto explained, drawing the Grand Inquisitor’s attention. “Admiral Thrawn knew we couldn’t fight the Reaper within the  _Razormoth_  without suffering major casualties, so we set a trap of our own instead. We manipulated the environment by shutting specific blast doors to keep most of the personnel safe, while Admiral Thrawn led him on a wild bantha chase through the ship. The personnel available provided cover fire and distractions for Admiral Thrawn so the Reaper could never quite catch up.”

“And the Reaper’s capture?”

Vanto continued. “While Admiral Thrawn distracted the Reaper, I rigged an escape pod and deployed the jumptroopers who set the grenades on the hull above where we’d trap him. All that was left was to draw the Reaper into position, eliminate alternative exit routes, and lead him to believe he could save himself. Then when he ejected in the pod, we caught him in the tractor beam.”

The Pau’an’s yellow eyes glinted. A smirk curled one corner of his lips, and the Grand Inquisitor appeared impressed.

“Clever,” he admitted. “And to have come up with a plan like that while the Reaper was hunting you is impressive, indeed. I suppose it makes more sense now why you’re held in such high esteem, Admiral.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Thrawn said. “It was fortunate the Reaper’s pattern changed as it did. If it had not, we may not have fared as well as we have.”

The Grand Inquisitor’s eyes flashed. Interest. “A change, you say?”

Thrawn nodded as he led the way to the hanger bay where the Grand Inquisitor’s TIE was waiting. “Yes. Of the stories and reports I’ve heard concerning the Reaper, they all suggest careful planning. A certain discipline to every movement.”

The Pau’an’s lifted a brow. “And you don’t believe this attack on your life was carefully planned?”

“I do not,” Thrawn replied. “This attack was wild in comparison. Spur of the moment. Visible, when his past patterns suggest obscurity. We collected entire feeds of the Reaper that can now be studied which, to my knowledge, had never happened before. He also came here alone.”

“Have you considered that was the plan?” the Grand Inquisitor asked. “After all, he escaped even from you with the aid of his companions, Admiral, despite his temporary capture.”

“His behavior when we spoke leads me to believe support wasn’t part of his plan. He spoke with arrogance. A man confident in his abilities. He believed he would succeed, and thus came with no one and expected no aid. The presence of his allies and their focus on his rescue, along with their immediate retreat, also speaks to the independence of his actions. This is all contrary to his previous patterns.”

“Fascinating,” the Grand Inquisitor said with a pleased smile, though he did not elaborate further. “Perhaps I might contact you again, Admiral. For consultations on future … assignments. Your insights might prove invaluable.”

“I am pleased to provide what support I can.”

The Grand Inquisitor smirked. “Indeed.”

“Should we anticipate another attack on the Admiral’s life?” Vanto asked seriously. “We’re already increasing security on the  _Chimaera_  once we return. Are there other precautions we should take, considering the Reaper’s Force abilities?”

“I believe that should be more than sufficient,” the Grand Inquisitor replied. “It is unlikely that the Reaper will shadow your doorway again. We of the Inquisitorius have found a way to track the Rider, the Reaper’s partner. Once we find the Rider we will surely find the Reaper, and he will not escape again. No more harm should come to you.”

Now that Thrawn had faced the Reaper once, he had data. Information enough to prepare for a second attack. But he did not believe it would come. It would be a suicide attempt for the Reaper to try again, now that Thrawn was more aware of him. Vanto, he saw, wasn’t as easily placated with the Grand Inquisitor’s reassurance, but he said nothing when Thrawn gave him a discreet glance.

“I must be off,” the Grand Inquisitor said. “If you recall anything else Admiral, Commander, please do contact me again.”

“Of course,” Thrawn said, lifting his chin. “Good hunting.”

The hatch to the Grand Inquisitor’s TIE closed. The release activated and the starship began to move.

“That guy gives me the creeps,” Vanto muttered as they watched the Grand Inquisitor leave. Vanto’s shoulders visibly relaxed the moment the Inquisitor made the jump to lightspeed. He cast a glance at Thrawn. “You sure you’re all right, sir?”

Thrawn looked at Vanto. After the activity that had ensued following the capture and escape of the Reaper, there had been little time to speak past status reports. Now that the investigation had been concluded, Thrawn could see the pale tinge to Vanto’s cheeks, and hear the way his Wild Space drawl had momentarily thickened. Concern. Thrawn lifted his gaze to the viewport.

“I am quite all right, Commander Vanto,” Thrawn replied. “With your help, we were able to prevent any more causalities.”

“But he got away,” Vanto sighed. “We could’ve caught him and held him accountable for all the murders he’s been responsible for over the years. Charged him with attempted murder.” Vanto’s voice grew cold and hard, his loyalty and concern once again on display.

“We could not have anticipated the actions of the Reaper’s allies,” Thrawn said.

Vanto eyed him speculatively. “I’m kind of surprised you’re not interested in hunting him down.”

“It is not our task to find and capture the Reaper,” Thrawn said, though the idea held some merit. “Until it becomes necessary, he is not our concern. We have our own enemies to face.”

“Fair enough,” Vanto agreed before he turned. “Captain Fia’shal should be arriving within the hour to take command of the  _Razormoth_. After that we should make it back to the  _Chimaera_  in five standard hours. I don’t know about you, sir, but I’ll be happy to be back once we get there.”

Vanto left, and Thrawn returned his attention to the viewport. In the wake of the last several hours, he too was eager to return to his ship. But as he gazed upon the stars, he made a mental note that, once they were safely back aboard the  _Chimaera_ , he would begin gathering information. Information on the Reaper, the Rider, and any other affiliated groups for future reference.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I have to say, of all the chapters I’ve written, this might have been the hardest. Thrawn is such a hard character for me to get into the mind of (which is irksome since he’s my favorite. Go figure), and trying to write such a brilliant character was challenging. And enthralled!Kanan. After writing his perspective one way for so long, writing it this way was jarring and eerie, which I hope it was for you too. Like I said at the start, I did a lot of new things and tried to be as clever with Thrawn as I could. I hope this chapter was satisfying and that you liked it! I’d love to know what you thought.
> 
> As always, a great place to keep track of status updates for Blackbird or any of my other stories is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Bet you’re wondering what to expect in the next chapter, now that Kanan’s back with the crew. Hard to say. How about I leave you with a question instead. 
> 
> Where’s Rosie?


	26. Intruder

Ezra stared at the escape pod and tried to control the dread and worry that kept threatening to overwhelm him. He felt sick. Beyond sick. Nauseous didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling. The Force writhed around him like gross worms, threatening to wriggle into him, consume him, pollute him with the dark pressure emanating from within the metal sphere.

And that was nothing to say of the simmering anger he could feel too.

Sabine shifted beside him. He could feel her surprise that he wasn’t sprinting over to open the pod, now that they’d landed on Lothal. He’d told them once they’d saved his master not to let him inside. To keep him in the pod in space until they all got back to Lothal. Until he could be there in person.

The Mandalorian frowned at him when he still didn’t move. “Should we—?”

“No,” Ezra said immediately, to both her and the others. “Don’t go over there. I … I don’t know if it’s safe.”

“Well, he can’t just stay in there forever,” Zeb said. “It’s been hours since we picked him up. Surly that’s enough time for him to cool off.”

“You don’t understand, Zeb,” Ezra said thickly as the anger and dark pressure shifted and condensed. “If it was just Kanan in there, it would be fine. But it’s not. A few hours aren’t going to cool him off. I don’t know what it's done.”

“What do you mean if it was just Kanan in there?” Zeb’s face crunched up, confusion unmistakable. “Ezra. There’s no one else in there but him.”

“No, you still don’t understand.” Ezra’s words cut off as the Force abruptly shifted in the pod. He didn’t have time to explain further. Not when the sound of metal ripping and rending filled the air of the clearing. Everyone stepped back, and it took everything Ezra had not to twitch his hand toward his lightsaber pistol. This was Kanan. He wouldn’t attack them. He might … he might be angry, sure, but he wouldn’t hurt them.

And his master definitely wouldn’t hurt him.

Coming back to himself, Ezra stood before the rest of the group as they watched the tip of the black scythe slice through the metal in rough, jagged strokes. Where the scythe touched, the metal and ceramic turned red and melted and cracked. Ezra’s heart pounded. He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know if he should expect the worst.

A violent Force push jarred the hatch open and sent it flying across the way. Ezra readied himself as Kanan stepped out, dressed in deep black armor with the Reaper’s helmet still firmly in place. The scythe looked vile in his master’s hand, and Ezra thought he could just make out the faintest edge of black around Kanan. Like smoke, emanating from the weapon. He had no idea if it was real, or his Force perception, or if he was going crazy, but it sent ice down his spine.

The anger in the Force intensified. Ezra lifted his head boldly, face set as Kanan stalked toward him.

“What did you think you were doing!” Kanan roared as he tore off his helmet and threw it to the side so he could bare his enraged face. Behind him he heard the crew stiffen and shuffle. Ezra advanced, even as his legs threatened to tremble. This would keep Kanan’s attention on him and not on the others. He needed to find out how bad this was, and as the only Force user left to defend them, he had to do what he could. Thankfully, it appeared he had no problem snagging his master’s undivided attention. “Why did you take me away? How did you even—!”

“We saved you!” Ezra shouted, fist clenched as the anger and fear that had throbbed in his chest since all this began rose to the fore. “Whoever you were after had you trapped in an escape pod like a gift-wrapped present. You were captured!”

“I had everything under control!”

“No, you didn’t! And if you were in your right mind, you’d know it.” Ezra scowled. “You _left_ and you didn’t even tell me where you’d gone. You didn’t plan, you didn’t anything except stupidly attack the Empire! You’re lucky we even found you at all!”

“I never asked for you to come after me,” Kanan roared, shoving at Ezra’s shoulder with his free hand. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want your help. You would have held me back!”

“That’s not true! Can’t you see this is the scythe talking?”

Ezra’s voice cracked out through the cold air like lightning, and Kanan blinked, surprised. Ezra was surprised himself, but he also knew this moment of confusion wouldn’t last long. He’d broken through a little. He had to take advantage of it while he could.

“Kanan, you need to get rid of it. This last mission? It wasn’t you. It was the scythe.” A flicker of confusion crossed Kanan’s face. Skeptical disbelief, but Ezra pushed on. “You have to believe me, Master. It’s making you do things you wouldn’t do. It’s going to get you killed!”

“He’s right, Kanan,” Hera said, drawing forward slowly as if not to startle a raging animal. “I don’t know the specifics of what’s going on, but that thing? It needs to go. You could have died out there. It was pure luck we managed to rescue you.”

Though Ezra was comforted by Hera’s presence, he also felt the delicate shift in the Force when Kanan’s attention settled to the Twi’lek. Kanan’s teeth flashed in a deadly snarl.

“What does it matter to you? Besides, I never asked for your help. I never asked for any of your help!”

“Well you got it anyway,” Hera said firmly, and Ezra was astounded by the determination in her voice. He wished he felt so steady. “And it’s a good thing too. Kanan, what were you thinking?”

“That I was going to rid the galaxy of a growing problem,” he snapped. “I had everything under control.”

Hera scoffed. “If that’s what you meant by control, it’s a wonder the Empire hasn’t already captured you! You’re better than this, Kanan. Ezra’s right. It wasn’t you up there calling the shots.”

“Yes, it was!” Kanan shouted. Alarm bolted through Ezra and he latched onto Hera, tugging her back so he could position himself in front of her, ready to protect her from the attack he suspected might come. It didn’t come, but the look in Kanan’s blind eyes didn’t make him feel like the danger had passed. Behind him, he heard Sabine and the others shifting, drawing blasters, preparing for Force only knew what.

Kanan glowered, shooting him a look Ezra had never seen on his master’s face. It made his heart pound.

“Get out of the way, Apprentice. Hera’s a big girl, last I checked. If she wants to fight, she doesn’t need you. If she has something to say, she can say it without you.”

“It’s the same thing I’m saying,” Ezra said, his hands sweating. He wasn’t sure if he should go for his lightsaber or not, yet. Instinct told him he should, but his heart was screaming otherwise. “She’s right. The scythe is trying to take over. You have to listen to me!”

“I don’t have to listen to anyone,” Kanan barked. “Least of all you!”

Ezra was an instant from summoning his blade to his hands, sure his master was about to lash out when Kanan’s rage blazed. But just as quickly as the thought sparked through his mind, something else flickered in the Force. He froze. To his surprise, they both had. Kanan’s eyes widened, dread echoing between the both of them as it broke through the anger. Simultaneously their eyes shot toward the base.

Someone was inside. Someone seeped in the dark side.

An intruder.

“Kanan,” Ezra breathed, struggling to believe it. His master was already stalking forward, scythe curved behind him wicked and sharp with intent.

“Stay here,” Kanan ordered as he prowled into the darkness of the tunnel. Though his anger still buzzed around him, his master strangely seemed more himself. Ezra didn’t know if it was because he was physically with Ezra and the crew or if the threat made his protective instincts rise, but for whatever the reason, he didn’t care. He was just glad to see this side of Kanan again.

Even if he dreaded what they might find inside.

Kanan was already in the tunnel, Ezra about to follow, when a hand wrapped around his shoulder to jerk him to a stop. Hera pinned him with her eyes, and behind her the others also watched with varying levels of caution and outright disapproval.

“Ezra?”

“There’s someone in there,” Ezra said tightly. “A darksider.”

“An Inquisitor?” Hera asked, the green of her skin paling.

“Yeah. Maybe.” His voice was raspy, and he tried to swallow around it. “Probably.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Zeb said as he ran a hand over his face and down his beard. “As if things weren’t already bad.”

“This is probably a trap,” Sabine said, her tone hard, the disapproval in the Force radiating from her. “Ezra, this is a bad idea! We shouldn’t be walking right in like this! Who knows what we’re going to find in there?”

“I know, but I can’t stop Kanan and I’m not letting him go by himself,” Ezra gritted out before looking at Hera. “Right now, I think Kanan’s more himself. But if he’s about to fight a darksider like this, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I _have_ to be there.”

Hera took a deep breath, her eyes gliding over him, her crew, and into the dark tunnel where Kanan was already drawing ahead. When she let it out, Ezra could feel her decision sitting in the air like a weight.

“We’re going with you. AP-5, stay back here and let us know if anyone else comes.”

“This is a bad idea, Hera,” Sabine insisted, even as she readied her blasters. Beside her Zeb already held his bo-rifle at the ready. Hera nodded, her hand slipping off Ezra’s shoulder so she could also draw her blaster.

“Noted. Now let’s go.”

Ezra shot forward, moving on quiet feet to catch up to Kanan. The crew had been here enough to know their way through the tunnel in the dark by now, so he wasn’t worried about guiding them through. What mattered right now was keeping Kanan in sight, and keeping him stable.

With the darksider in front of them, and the dark side curling around Kanan, Ezra wasn’t sure how successful he’d be.

“They shouldn’t be here,” Kanan growled once Ezra caught up. “Their death won’t be on my hands.”

“They want to help, and they can take care of themselves,” Ezra hissed back, disconcerted by the harsh comment. “We’re not alone, Kanan.”

“I told them to stay behind,” his master said again before he turned his blind eyes on Ezra. “I told all of you.”

Ezra glowered. “I. Am not. Leaving you.”

Kanan said nothing, and though Ezra could feel the dark side slip around his master again as if to tighten its hold, he also felt something shift and rise. Something like relief. A temporary balm.

Ezra wished it was enough to banish the darkness entirely. It wasn’t. A second later it sank again, but although Kanan’s eyes were hard he didn’t tell him to leave a second time.

“Just stay close and do as I say, Apprentice.”

Silence sank into the air between them as they prowled forward. The only sound that could be heard now was the distant shuffling of the others behind them. All Ezra could feel in the Force was Kanan’s opaque presence in front of him like dark glass, along with the sharp fleck of pure darkness ahead of them.

His brow tightened in confusion. There was something else there too.

“Do you feel that?” Ezra asked when he tried to encourage the Force to give him more information about this other entity. All he got back was an echo of dread. “Kanan, what is that? What do you see?”

“Nothing you’re going to like, Ezra. You should have stayed behind so I could handle this alone.”

What was that supposed to mean?

He didn’t get the chance to ask, not when the tunnel began to lighten. The darksider wasn’t in the main atrium, but Ezra could feel them close enough. In front of him, Kanan gave familiar hand signals and Ezra nodded, taking a calming breath. Behind him the others had caught up, and he gestured an echo of the commands to them before he followed Kanan cautiously out, his hand gripping his lightsaber pistol. He didn’t ignite it, not yet, but he kept it ready as his eyes slid around the room.

Nothing. There was nothing here. Nothing out of the ordinary. Ezra flicked his eyes at Kanan, and Kanan pointed to the hall leading off toward the meditation room and library. The others filed out, taking defensive positions off to the side. When the silence settled again, he finally heard something. Footsteps. light-footed footsteps accented with a sharp click at the end. He could also feel the quality of the Force user’s presence, dark and heavy, yet oddly sensual.

He knew who it was before she even turned the corner. A smile pulled at her lips when she saw them.

“Well. Look at what my new friend and I found.”

Ezra’s heart froze as Sabine and Zeb also stiffened next to him. The female Inquisitor. The one from that base they’d rescued those rebel sympathizers from. The Mirialan’s cold, yellow eyes were pleased. But that wasn’t what made his heart freeze.

Beside her, kneading at the ground with jagged claws and saliva dripping from a fanged mouth, was a nexu.

At first, the sight of the nexu was startling because it looked crazed. Its split tail whipped at the air, its fur was filthy and torn from wounds that looked freshly inflicted. Burned. Madness and rage seethed in the beast’s eyes as they rolled around, and it pulled at the Inquisitor’s leash with eager and wild abandon. Ready to hunt. Ready to rip and tear.

Panic filled Ezra’s heart when he took in the pale fur and ice blue eyes. Felt the faint bond stretching thin between them.

Rosie.

That panic swelled into anger as Ezra bared his teeth at the Inquisitor, hand tightening and lightsaber igniting to brilliant blue life.

“What have you done?” he demanded. “What have you done to Rosie!”

“Oh, nothing sweet child. And I must say, it’s nice to finally see your real face,” the Inquisitor’s cybernetic voice admitted as she waved a hand, the pink pad of her glove flashing obscenely. “After our last meeting, and how you left so suddenly, I had to find you. Only you’re quite talented at staying hidden. You and your master.”

The woman’s eyes swept to Kanan, her smile turning cruel. She didn’t look at Ezra again, but her words were clearly still meant for him.

“When you made it so difficult for me to find you, my pet, I was forced to improvise.” Her eyes dropped to Rosie, and she reached out a hand and stroked the nexu’s fur. Rosie hissed in response, at first at the Inquisitor. Then Rosie’s eyes turned and locked on Ezra. Through the bond between them, all he could feel was pain. Rage. Rage at the Inquisitor. Rage at _him_.

And fear.

“You used Rosie,” Ezra snarled, an unexpected spark of hate blazing in his chest. “How could you?”

“Well, you didn’t leave me much of a choice except to find this little one and have her lead me to you. You two have such a strong bond.” The Mirialan knelt down to hold Rosie’s face between her hands. Rosie immediately cowed, quills pulling back, her body shrinking down. “Did you know that when I found her, she was so lonely? Had separated from her pack just so she could wait for your return. I believe she thought you’d abandoned her.”

“That’s not true!” Ezra barked, a moment from springing forward when Kanan’s hand wrapped around his arm tight enough to bruise.

“No, Ezra! She’s baiting you.”

“It was probably just as well that I found her. But it was a shame that she fought back so persistently. Required a bit of discipline.” The woman dug her nails into an exposed, angry wound, and the sound Rosie gave echoed in the barracks atrium like a wail. “But she’s very compliant now, as you can see. A sweet pet.”

“Stop it!” Ezra yelled, his anger melting away into concern for Rosie as the bond between them flared. Need rose from the mad rage, need and pain. For an instant those crazed blue eyes found his and Ezra was sure it was his Rosie staring back at him. Needing him. “Let her go! You’ve found us, now let her go!”

“Oh, I’ve come to adore this precious darling,” the Mirialan crooned. “I can’t believe I’d never thought of it sooner. It’s true, I prefer droids to beasts, but how could I resist when she once belonged to you? Besides, what if you decided to slip away again? She would be able to help me find you. Now why would I give up something so valuable?”

The hand around Ezra’s arm squeezed, a warning which prevented him from bolting forward, if only just. Instead, Kanan lifted his chin, blind eyes narrowed.

“You made a mistake coming here, Inquisitor. You’re not going to leave.”

The Inquisitor chuckled as she straightened. “That’s what you think. I have to say, it is quite a pleasure to finally meet you, Reaper. I’m so sorry I missed you on Garel.” Her eyes widened in surprise before a grin spread across her lips. “I would never have guessed you’re blind. What a surprise. Impressive.”

The tone of the Inquisitor’s voice had grown sensual and coy, and it made Ezra decidedly uncomfortable that this darksider was now looking at his master with growing interest.

“You know, we need not fight. You’re already bathed in the dark side. Why don’t you come with me? Join us, and you can kill to your heart’s content. You can burn in all that anger and hate that’s consuming you.” Her grin turned enticing. “I’ll even make it worth your while.”

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Hera said, her blaster raised and her eyes resolute. The Inquisitor arched a sharp eyebrow in response, her grin pulling again.

“You think you can stop me?” Her yellow eyes turned wicked as she chuckled to herself before addressing Hera again after giving her a slow, appraising once over. “You think you’re enough?”

“We’re enough,” Hera corrected resolutely, and beside him Ezra felt the faint light in Kanan lift again as his attention settled on the Twi’lek. “Whatever anger and pain he’s experiencing, we will help him overcome it. We won’t let you take him.”

“I don’t believe it’s your choice to make,” the Mirialan said before she angled her eyes back toward Kanan. Immediately his attention refocused on the threat, the light drowned out again by his focus. “Like I said. Perhaps I can persuade you otherwise. I’ll even spare your little apprentice and let you keep him as a pet.”

At the mention of Ezra, Kanan’s hand dropped and his master stood in front of him, the scythe held across his body in a defensive posture, ready. Ezra stared at the abrupt change, surprised.

“You can forget it,” Kanan growled. “I’ll never join you.”

“Hmm,” the Inquisitor hummed thoughtfully. “I think not. After all, it’s only a matter of time before you fall to the dark side. As a matter of fact, I think that will happen very soon. Don’t you think, young one?”

“Never,” Ezra hissed, even as his stomach curdled uneasily.

“Your fear betrays you, but I like a wager now and then.” She reached behind her for her lightsaber, letting the handguard flip out before activating both ends with a snap-hiss. Red blades reached out like deadly lines, and she dropped the leash holding Rosie back. “Care to see who’s right?”

Before Ezra had time to move around Kanan, Kanan threw him to the side in time to meet the Inquisitor’s blade with his scythe. The place where the lightsaber and the scythe met smoked and sizzled faintly before Kanan threw her off with a shove. She flew back and focused on blocking the intense blaster fire coming from the  _Ghost_  crew, pinning her down.

“Kitten, I believe there’s someone here who wants to play with you.”

As if on command, Rosie screeched before she flew forward, teeth bared and angry and heading directly for Ezra. Ezra had to roll back and vault to escape her deadly claws before he took off at a run. Instantly he deactivated his lightsaber and raced for the corner of the room that held all his beast handling gear, and found a long metal pole he could use as a staff. The Force pulsed at him and Ezra turned, raising the staff just in time to jam it between his nexu’s jaws. Muscles shaking, he was forced to deal with the bulk of her weight as a lucky claw scraped along his arm, leaving a trail of pain. He ignored it and used the Force to shove her back. Give him room. Time to think.

But there wasn’t much time to think. None at all. Whatever mad training the Inquisitor had pulled on Rosie had her locked in its hold, and all his nexu would do was attack him again and again. In the distance, he could hear the sound of lightsaber and scythe, of blaster fire and Chopper’s bleating warbles. He wanted to see what was going on. More than anything he wanted to see what was happening with his master, but with Rosie on him like he was her next meal, he couldn’t afford to spare the attention.

Ezra blocked and blocked with his staff as Rosie came at him rapidly. It was a struggle to hold her off. He couldn’t use his lightsaber. He couldn’t use his blaster. He didn’t want to hurt her because, enraged or not, this was Rosie. His girl. She’d already been hurt by the Inquisitor, used just to get to him. Ezra couldn’t hurt her. He  _couldn’t_.

But if he didn’t think of something soon, it would only be a matter of time before Rosie wore him down enough and finally tore him apart.

“Rosie, girl, this isn’t you! You know me!” Rosie swiped at him with her claws again, and he barely missed having his arm ripped off. “Rosie!”

“Ezra stand back!”

Ezra moved back on reflex, and he watched as a pair of tranquilizer darts zipped through the air. Rosie’s tail whipped out and knocked them away. Zeb took another shot with a second tranquilizer gun Proxy had just handed him as Sabine repositioned for a new opening. But Rosie was quick and avoided the darts Ezra kept with the rest of his beast handling gear. Proxy must have shown the others where the tranquilizer darts were, and he was beyond grateful. They knew how much Rosie meant to him.

But it was clear this tactic wasn’t going to last for long.

“Rosie!” Ezra tried again, hoping his voice would break through, but it didn’t. It only refocused her attention on him where he stood with his back against the wall. Not good.

“Focus, Ezra!” Kanan yelled from across the room where he was still locked in combat with the Inquisitor. “Reconnect with her! Break the Inquisitor’s hold!”

“You can’t!” the Inquisitor laughed before it broke off into a snarl when Hera shot her in the shoulder with a bolt. The Mirialan staggered and at the same time Ezra thought he felt Rosie’s madness slack. Reacting purely on instinct, Ezra focused his will and opened his heart, reaching out for Rosie. The bond between them was weak, it was true, but it was still there. That meant that he could reconnect. He could break the Inquisitor’s hold and save Rosie.

Rosie yowled and the sound of her paws striking the ground told him he had no time left now. There wasn’t space to get out of the way. She was coming, and she might very well kill him this time.

Ezra lowered his staff and closed his eyes.

“Rosie,” Ezra said, his heart aching, hoping, reaching out to hers to let her know how sorry he was that he hadn’t been there to save her from the Inquisitor. How pained he was by what was happening. How her agony was his now too. He could feel every wound that had been inflicted on her body by the Inquisitor. Could feel the hopelessness and the desire to see him again. Waiting for him to save her. Believing that one day he would come for her. Her growing despair and hatred when he hadn’t.

But deep down, held back by the madness, she still believed in him. Still waited for him to save her.

Focusing on that, he yanked it to the front of her mind, shattering through the madness as Zeb and Sabine began shouting in panic. The effect was instant. The bond between them boomed, swelled from weak to strong and Ezra flooded it with all the care, love, and compassion he held for his nexu. Everything he could give.

The next moment he felt heat in front of him. Hot, rank breath swept out from a huge mouth, mixing with the foul smell which lingered on her fur. But no attack came. No claws. No tail. Not teeth or quills.

Ezra slowly opened his eyes, and he was met with desperate, agonized ice blue. But they were Rosie’s ice blue. All Rosie’s. There was no madness tinging them now.

Across the room the Inquisitor screamed, but it was cut off by a grunt of exertion as Kanan swung a blow at her again. Though the battle still raged, though so much was happening right now, Ezra couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off his nexu.

“Rosie,” Ezra whispered before he reached a hand slowly out to her face. She reacted tentatively, edging her forehead forward until it was pressed into his palm, the coarse fur almost jabbing into his skin. He didn’t care. The bond arched between them, saturated with sorrow and relief and Ezra pulled her face forward, burrowing it against his belly as he pressed his face against the crown of her head and sunk his hands in her fur. “Rosie! You’re safe.”

A low rumble radiated from her body before it shook and collapsed. Alarm raced through Ezra, but he was relieved when he saw it was just her body giving out from exhaustion. She’d been run ragged, after everything she’d experienced. It was amazing she’d been able to fight him at all.

“It’s okay, girl. You stay here and rest,” he told her, imprinting the command through the bond. Much as he wanted to stay, he’d had his moment and now really wasn’t the time. The Inquisitor was still a threat, and so long as she was, there was no relaxing.

Especially when the Mirialan suddenly broke combat from Kanan to come at him, her red lightsaber blazing.

“Ezra, look out!”

Rosie yowled, her teeth bared as she struggled to stand again. Ezra rolled away and ignited his lightsaber in time to prevent the Inquisitor’s from sinking into his skull. The sizzling crackle of their blades grinding against each other was loud in his ears, the collision point blinding. The woman’s face was cast in a grim light which only highlighted the sick yellow in her eyes where they bore into his angrily.

“Fine. Keep your pet. I’ll take something far more precious. Can you feel how dark your master has become, Apprentice?” she asked as she withdrew, only to hammer down on him again. “You know he’s going to fall. Fall so far that your puny little light, and his love for you won’t save him. How does it feel, to watch it happen? To watch and know you can’t do anything to stop it?”

“Yes, I can,” Ezra gritted between clenched teeth. “I’ll do it just to prove you wrong!”

“And I’ll kill you to prove I am right. It’s a shame,” she said, taking advantage of an opening to seize him in the Force. “I really did think you’d make a good pet.”

Pressure built around his throat, cutting off his breath as he was lifted into the air.  He had to focus past the wall of instinctive panic to reach for the Force to push back. To force the pressure away enough to breathe. And it was working, but it wasn’t working fast enough. The faintest wisp of air slipped into his chest, but it might as well have been nothing.

Not good.

A thunderous yell boomed through the air an instant before the Force hold on his throat vanished. Ezra dropped to the ground as he coughed and struggled to catch his breath, and when he did his heart dropped.

Kanan stood over the Inquisitor, having taken her by surprise in her attempt to kill him. The scythe was held high, angled and ready to arc down in a deadly, fatal swing. Rage and desperation etched every line of his master’s face, and all Ezra could feel in the Force was fear. Anger. The dark side grew stronger, hardening around him like a layer he might never break through again.

In a flash of clarity, Ezra knew if Kanan killed her like this, wild and remorseless and filled with this desperate rage, he would cross a line Ezra would never be able to call him back from. That goodness that still lingered in his master’s heart, that goodness he knew Kanan wanted more than anything … it would taint and it would die and there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Ezra reached for his lightsaber where it had fallen, ignited it again, then reached deep within himself for reserves of strength he wasn’t entirely sure he still had. As the scythe began its descent, Ezra threw everything he had into stopping it. It was like being hit with an explosive, complete with burning, acrid heat, but the blade stopped inches from the Inquisitor’s throat.

“No, Kanan!” Ezra said, the grunt bordering on a whine as his arms shook under the strain of holding off the blow. “Not like this! You can’t kill her when you’re like this!”

“She’ll kill you if I don’t!” Kanan snarled back. “She’ll kill everyone! I can’t let that happen. She’s found you and if she has, then more will too! I have to kill her before that happens. I have to kill her to keep you safe! She has to die.”

“That’s the scythe talking, Kanan!” Ezra insisted. “If you kill her like this, you’ll fall so far from the light you won’t come back. It’s crossing a line, Kanan!”

“Then I’ll cross the line!” Kanan roared, and Ezra saw something flicker into Kanan’s eyes, the edges of those familiar milky white misting red. “I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her! For hunting us down, for using Rosie, for hurting you, I’ll end her! And when I kill her, I’ll go after the other one, and every other Inquisitor they send after us. I’m going to protect you, Ezra. I’m going to keep you safe! I’m not going to let it happen.” Kanan drew back and lifted a hand. “I’m not going to let you die!”

“Kanan—!”

Ezra was airborne the next moment, the breath in his lungs punching out of his chest with the violent Force shove. Spots assaulted his vision, but luckily his collision was much softer than he’d anticipated. Strong, furred arms wrapped around him, and though he couldn’t see, he knew who’d caught him.

“I gotcha, kid,” Zeb growled before he started running. In the distance, he heard the sound of the Inquisitor’s lightsaber singing again against the scythe, the pace punishing and rapid. Fear jarred Ezra as he struggled to see past the spots. Hoping that what he thought was happening, wasn’t actually happening.

It was.

Kanan was doing it. Though the Inquisitor had made something of a recovery while he’d held off his master, Kanan was making up for it by beating her back. His scythe was a blinding blur of black as it danced and spun about his body, and the scowl that had sat on the Inquisitor’s face was now dropping with realization and panic.

Kanan’s eyes, when Ezra could see again, were beginning to glow red, and a pleased grin was developing there.

No.

“Put me down! We have to stop him!” Ezra exclaimed as he struggled in Zeb’s arms, tumbling to the ground gracelessly. By some good fortune, he still had his lightsaber and he lifted it to take aim. “We can’t let him kill her!”

“What are you talking about? He’s getting her out of our hair!”

Ezra ignored the Lasat and forced his legs to work through sheer grit. He needed to stop this, but how? They were moving so fast, too fast, he couldn’t get a clear shot on either of them if he tried.

“Ezra?” Sabine said, appearing at his side. “Ezra, what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” he replied thoughtlessly. “We’ve got to separate them, somehow, we’ve got to make him stop—”

“I’ve got this.”

In horror, Ezra watched as Sabine sprinted forward, drawing a grenade and activating it.

“Hey guys! Heads up!”

Sabine threw the grenade right at Kanan and the Inquisitor while at the same time aiming one of her blasters at it. Both paused long enough to see the new threat and leap away from each other, trying to clear the area as she shot the grenade. Both were thrown down, tossed aside by the residual impact, and for now that was enough. Kanan was away from the Inquisitor. That meant Ezra still had time to figure out what to do next. Kanan hadn’t succeeded. Not yet.

The Inquisitor struggled to her feet, lightsaber inactive before she turned and began hobbling toward the exit.  Alarm built in him because they couldn’t let her escape either. Ezra lifted his lightsaber to shoot a stunning blast at her when something in the Force stopped him. His bond flared. A yowl screamed through the room before a blur of white plowed into the lithe form of the Mirialan. Ezra’s mouth dropped.

“Rosie!”

It happened fast after that. The Inquisitor screamed, her lightsaber sailing away with the force of the impact, and though she struggled to fight off the nexu, it was no use. Rosie’s split tail lashed at the Mirialan as one set of claws held her down against the ground. The nexu screeched again, icy eyes gleaming in beastly revenge as her huge teeth gleamed.

The Inquisitor’s scream cut short. A crunching sound cracked through the air instead, and the Inquisitor’s body twitched once before it went limp. Blood covered the pale fur around Rosie’s mouth as her tail continued to thrash the body while she screeched and growl at it. Retribution and protective instincts howled through the Force bond he shared with the nexu as she stood over the one who’d hurt her so badly. The one who’d almost hurt him.

When Rosie looked at him again, her huge maw hung open as she huffed for breath, her entire body shaking. But pride sat in the bond. Pride at having kept him safe. Gruesome as it was, he gave her a wobbly smile, before sighing with relief. Around the room the others were slowly getting to their feet holding their breath as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But the Inquisitor didn’t move. It was over. The Inquisitor was dead. They were all safe.

“Stupid beast.”

The Force rolled, and Rosie was suddenly propelled from the dead, torn body of the Inquisitor and slammed against the far wall. She yipped and whimpered before she slumped to the ground, a pale lump of fur. It was only the bond between Ezra and Rosie that ensured him she hadn’t been killed. Only knocked out.

But Rosie wasn’t the one he was focused on now. The Inquisitor may have been taken care of, but the dark side hadn’t vanished from the room.

It had only condensed into something stronger than the Inquisitor had ever been.

Ezra’s eyes found his master, and he watched as Kanan slowly straightened from his crumpled position on the floor where Sabine’s grenade had thrown him. His hand held his face, covered his eyes, but what little of Kanan’s face Ezra could see, it was blank.

No. No, it wasn’t blank.

Fear curled through Ezra, his hold on his lightsaber tightening as Kanan’s hand slipped down his face nice and easy to reveal a relieved, satisfied grin. A grin the likes of which Ezra had only ever seen on his master’s face once. On the recording which had prompted all of this.

Kanan started to chuckle, then that chuckle evolved into full laughter unlike anything Ezra had ever experienced. It wasn’t happy. It wasn’t warm. It was pleased, and there was darkness there, a mad pleasure which lingered in the very core of Kanan’s voice.

“Kanan?” Ezra said slowly, his voice threatening to shake, and though he hadn’t called out loudly the laughter immediately silenced. Around him Sabine and Zeb and Hera and the droids all shifted, instinctually bothered by the display as deeply as he was.

His master turned to them and opened his eyes, the grin still wide across his face. The scythe hung in a gentle grip at his side.

Kanan’s eyes glowed red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Lots of action and craziness, but most of all Rosie's back! Yay! (I love that big kitty) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'd love to hear what you thought about it. It was supposed to be much longer, but due to the length I had to break it in half. That means that there's going to be a Sunday post, and I bet you can all guess what that one's going to be about. 
> 
> As always, a great place to keep up with me and the stories I write is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/).


	27. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets pretty dark, and there’s a fair amount of psychological warfare being lobbed about. With that in mind, proceed with caution and I’ll catch up with you again at the end of the chapter.

Hera froze as she stared at Kanan, and what feeling she’d had in her hands vanished. Those eyes … she’d seen them before. Knew them in an unpleasantly intimate way because they haunted her dreams at night. Promised to kill her and pervert Kanan’s goodness. Take him away. But there was no way. Those red eyes, when she’d last seen them months ago, they’d been imbedded in the form of something shadow-like and separate. Otherworldly and terrifying.

Why were they now in Kanan’s blind white? And that smile ….

“Kanan?” Hera said, her voice slipping out into the still air of the atrium though she hadn’t meant to say anything. Thoughtlessly she made half a step forward before Ezra’s voice shot out from across the room.

“Hera, stop!” The panic in his voice was ultimately what stilled her movements, and it chilled her to the bone. It matched the worry that was slowly growing in her chest, and Ezra’s next words were only an unwelcome confirmation. “That’s not Kanan!” 

“What do you mean that’s not Kanan, kid?” Zeb demanded, but Hera saw the way the Lasat’s short fur was standing on end. The way the cuticles of his claws were bleaching white and his ears had turned back, reacting to a threat subconsciously. “Of course it’s him.”

“Well, that’s a little cold don’t you think, brat? The ugly Wookiee is right. Of course it’s me.” Kanan began to advance on Ezra, his smile cruel and promising. “You know me.”

“Yeah, I know you,” Ezra growled. “But you’re not Kanan. You’re just the thing that grew out of his suffering!”

Kanan tipped his head from side to side, contemplating before he shrugged. “Well, I can’t argue that.”

“It’s the Shade,” Hera breathed, naming the monster even though she wished she didn’t need to. Just labeling it brought a sharp crash of fear as she remembered the first time she’d encountered it. How close it had come to killing her, if not for Kanan. “No.”

“Oh, I hoped you’d get it, sweetheart. I must have left quite an impression the first time we met.” Kanan — the Shade — praised as he — _it_  — turned those glowing red eyes on her. A part of her wanted to hide from that gaze, and it was a struggle to withstand it even as she forced herself to meet it courageously. “And here I thought you were trying to forget about me.”

“Everyone, fall back,” Hera commanded, thinking fast. “Ezra’s right. That’s not Kanan. He’s being controlled.”

“Controlled?” Sabine said in disbelief, even as she began shifting away with her blasters locked on the Shade. “Hera, I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean? What in Ashla is going on?” Zeb demanded, but sucked in a breath at the last moment as the Shade began twirling the scythe acrobatically about Kanan’s body before using it and its momentum to launch itself at Zeb. Zeb swore and dove, leaping out of the way even as the scent of singed fur followed after him. “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

“Not a thing,” the Shade replied with a smirk. “Now stand still. I’m aiming for your neck, but I’ll cut anything that gets in the way.”

The scythe was moving again, and alarm raced through Hera. “Zeb!”

Whether her warning had helped or not, Zeb threw himself down in time to avoid the blade as it sang through the air where his body had been. Sabine didn’t hesitate and began laying down cover fire before throwing a smoke grenade Zeb immediately took advantage of. The Lasat scrambled away, everyone racing for cover all across the room while the Shade was distracted.

It prowled around, scythe spinning and deadly as it dispelled the lingering cloud of smoke around it.

“Hide and seek? You know, I like a good game now and then. But you might not like it when I find you.”

“Hera, what are we going to do?” Sabine demanded on the comm. The Mandalorian was on the other side of the room, out of sight, but Hera thought she heard her checking her blasters.

“Set all blasters to stun,” Hera ordered. “Controlled or not, that’s still Kanan. We need to find a way to break that thing’s hold on him. Get him back to himself.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’s going to give us much of a choice,” Sabine grunted, and Hera stiffened when the Shade’s head abruptly lifted before smiling at a spot where Sabine might have hidden herself.

“Found you!”

“Sabine!” Hera warned, and an instant later blaster fire lit the room. The Shade laughed, its blade spinning to eat and reflect the bolts as it all but danced and toyed with the Mandalorian. Zeb cursed and broke cover before shooting along with Hera as they tried to keep the Shade off Sabine.

Sabine rolled and took cover again near Zeb where together they worked to push the Shade back. From the other side of the room, Ezra was also firing at the Shade, but every time a bolt came close, that black blade would dip just enough behind itself to catch the shot. The Shade didn’t even bother to look at all.

The comm clicked on and Sabine’s voice came through. “He’s moving way faster than he was before, and I’ve never seen Kanan fight like this. We’re not getting him at all!”

Sabine was right. Hera could see it for herself. No matter where Zeb, Sabine, Ezra, or even the droids took up position or what they threw at him, the Shade riding Kanan’s body moved so quickly no one could hit it. No one could touch it. Any bolts that came close were consumed by the black blur that was the scythe. At some point Ezra had abandoned his position to take an offensive one, igniting his blade to face the Shade directly. The blue flare of Ezra’s lightsaber was a contrast to the flash of matte black, a contrast that looked like it was taking everything he had out of the boy, while having little to no effect.

It was good luck when Sabine managed to throw a stun grenade that the Shade hadn’t been able to deflect or destroy before it detonated. Hera’s heart leapt, hoping that would be enough to take it down. It usually worked so well on others. Unfortunately it only made the Shade stagger, but it was enough for Hera to pull something together and hopefully retake control of the situation.

“Ezra, I need you here. The rest of you, keep it distracted.”

They reacted immediately, Ezra breaking away before the Shade could pull him back into the fray while Zeb, Sabine, Chopper, and Proxy all did what they could to keep him busy. Ezra dove behind the column Hera had taken cover behind. She didn’t waste a second.

“Ezra, you know the most about the thing inside the scythe and what’s happening to Kanan. I need your help figuring out what’s our next move. What do we need to do? How do we stop it?”

“We need to get the scythe away from him,” the young Jedi said, eyes hard. “It’s got him enthralled. He’s better so long as he’s not touching it, and I think if we can get him to let it go, he might return to himself.”

“Might?”

Ezra grimaced, desperation and the edge of hopelessness peeking out in the harsh lines of his face. “I don’t know, Hera! It’s the best I’ve got!”

Hera sucked in a breath at Ezra’s sharp tone, and the boy instantly looked chagrined. But she could see it now, in his eyes, what he’d been working so hard to hide. His fear. The worry she too was feeling, and she instantly chided herself.

How much was Ezra making this up as he went, just like the rest of them were? Since the mess with the Inquisitor began, he’d been so level and steady, holding together and ready just like Jedi were supposed to. But how much was he only pretending to be stable and strong, and how hard was Hera pushing him since she’d assumed he’d know better how to handle this because he was a Force user and she wasn’t?

The answer, she was beginning to suspect, was too hard. This was a Force problem, sure, and Ezra was a Jedi and he’d been around this problem of Kanan’s for years. But this was also Kanan too. Ezra’s parent and master, and Ezra, despite his maturity, was still only fifteen. Seeing Kanan like this, it might have been a small miracle Ezra was even able to think straight. This was taking a toll on him just as much as it was on her. More so.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said, the apology reflected in his eyes, and Hera shook her head as she squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Don’t be. I know you’re doing your best, and that’s all I could ever ask for. And right now, your idea is the best we have, so we’re going with it.” Hera peeked around the side of the column and watched as the Shade engaged the others. As terrible as it was, it looked like it was content to only play with them in a deadly game of dodge. Real intent to kill wasn’t quite there. Not yet. “We just have to figure out how to do it. But with the way it’s moving about, it’ll be an age before we pin it down long enough to get the scythe away from him.”

“I don’t know, Hera,” Ezra admitted as he watched as well.

Hera activated the comms again. “We need a way to separate the scythe from Kanan. Or to pin him down long enough so we can take it away. Ideas?”

“Uh … Ezra, are those wrangling cables? With your beast handling gear, over there?” Sabine asked, her breath coming in a huff. “If they are, I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah, I use them when I’m training difficult creatures,” Ezra said, his brow furrowing. Then understanding filled his blue eyes with hope. “Yeah, that might work!”

“What is it, Sabine?” Hera demanded. Whatever her Mandalorian had in mind, they needed to do it fast. The way the Shade was moving, it seemed as if it was getting bored, and that was never good. Hera didn’t think they had much time.

“Me, Zeb, and Ezra will use them to bind him down. Stop him from moving,” Sabine replied as she dodged out of the way after Zeb threw a grenade, and it was caught in the Force and sent hurling toward her. “That should give us an opportunity to get the scythe from him, but we need an opening to catch him. A distraction, or something.”

“I believe I can do that,” Proxy supplied readily. “It will take me a few moments to prepare, but I believe that should create the opening you need to capture him.”

“Go,” Hera ordered. “Hurry Proxy.” Proxy peeled away from the group where he’d been using a spare blaster rifle to hold the Shade off and vanished to the side.

“Zeb and Chop, get the cables. The rest of us can do what we can to hold him off till Proxy’s ready,” Ezra said before he dashed out with his lightsaber ignited to engage Kanan. Hera took shots where she could, when she could, as the seconds dragged on. The fighting intensified, but suddenly the Shade did something completely unexpected. In one, powerful swing of his scythe, the others were all thrown away with a Force shove. They fell back, toppling to the ground, but instead of getting them while they were down like Hera was terrified it might, instead it jumped high into the air.

Only to land right in front of her.

The Shade smiled at her in a mockery of Kanan’s smile, its red eyes blazing. “Hello sweetheart. You looked so lonely over here by yourself. I’d hate it if you missed out on all the fun.”

The scythe swept through the space she’d occupied a moment later as Hera threw herself back, only just managing to keep on her feet even as her heart raced. She lifted her blaster to shoot, but face-to-face with the Shade, she found she couldn’t pull the trigger. It masqueraded with Kanan’s face, and though its eyes were red and that smile wasn’t anything like the man she knew, this was still Kanan.

What was she supposed to do?

“Shouldn’t have frozen up like that.”

Heart in her throat, she dashed to the side, but her blaster flew away as she felt the razor tip of the scythe dig and rip through the top of her left shoulder. Pain raged through her senses, not only from the blade as it cut through skin and muscle, but by the intense burn which accompanied it. The smell of seared flesh this close to her nose was nauseating, and she scrambled back as far as she could. A scowl pulled at her face. All she could spare was a glance at the wound, but that wasn’t enough for any reasonable diagnosis. All she saw was burned and red and green and black and smoking. Nothing good.

Luckily, she was at least sure the wound wasn’t too deep and nothing vital had been hit, given that she could still move and feel her left arm. With a great deal of effort.

“Oh, sorry,” it said with mock apology. “I hadn’t meant to nick you, honest. I was going for your whole arm. I guess that’s what you get for moving around.”

“Monster!” Hera snarled, doing her best to ignore the pain. “Let Kanan go!”

The Shade’s eyes rolled and it gave a mighty sigh. “Kanan this. Kanan that. Why is everyone always so interested in that pathetic excuse for a man when you really should be more worried about me!”

The scythe was arcing again, raised for another blow. Hera gritted her teeth and sprang to the side in time to avoid it completely, even if its fearsome heat edged a lek a little too close for comfort. She shifted into a run, but that hardly mattered when she heard the Shade give chase behind her. How were they supposed to stop it without hurting Kanan? How were they supposed to stop it before it killed them? She didn’t know, but if things didn’t change soon, something would have to give. If she was alive long enough to see it give, anyway.

The whistle of the air caught her attention as she jolted around. The scythe was coming again, and it was coming fast.

And she was too close.

“Hera, catch!”

Quick reflexes from flying all her life ensured she caught whatever Ezra had thrown at her, and with surprise she realized it was his lightsaber. Forcing her injured arm to work past the pain, she gripped it tight in both hands as she recalled what he’d told her about igniting it. She pressed the button and brilliant blue light manifested just as the scythe came down. Hera screeched in agony as her shoulder protested, sending bright, burning streaks of pain through her mind, but this time the scythe didn’t dig into her. The lightsaber held it at bay.

But only just.

“Oh, look at you,” the Shade said with amusement. “Saved in the nick of time. I think Kanan’s heart even jumped at that one, you know. But tell me. How long do you think you can keep that up?” The pressure on the lightsaber shifted just enough to force the weight of the scythe on her injury, and weakness bled into that arm. Weakness she desperately fought against, even if she sensed it was a losing fight.

“As long as I have to,” Hera grunted tightly, but though she was determined to fulfill her words, there was no doubting that — sans injury — this was a form of combat she had never been skilled in. She was strong, but her muscles were designed to yank the yoke of a ship, not withstand blow after blow of melee combat.

Whatever Proxy was up to, she hoped he’d hurry.

The Shade lifted the scythe and brought it down again, and the force of the swing almost forced the lightsaber out of her hands. The blue blade buzzed loudly near her ear-node. Another round of that and the scythe might not be the thing that killed her, but Ezra’s own lightsaber.

“Caleb, stop.”

Against all odds, Kanan’s eyes widened with shock as they flickered from glowing red to pale white, his body freezing where Hera held him off. They both glanced at the speaker.

Across from them on the other side of the atrium was a human woman; a brown-skinned human woman dressed in brown robes with clean braids framing her head. An air of serenity and quiet confidence ebbed from her, dominating the room. She stared upon Kanan with steady eyes.

“Master …” Kanan whispered in disbelief, and as he did the pressure he was using to hold Hera down dissipated. Hera took her chance and shoved off, throwing herself back even as she readied for a follow-up attack in case this was just a ruse. But an attack didn’t come. He continued to stare at the woman as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

It dawned on Hera that the Shade was gone, for the moment. It was Kanan again.

“This isn’t you, Padawan,” the woman said as she slowly advanced, dark eyes locked on Kanan. “You are better than this. Do not let the darkness take control.”

As this woman continued to move forward, the others took the opportunity to move into position, cables primed and ready as Kanan finally stood still. Hera’s heart dropped when she saw Kanan begin to blink again, blink rapidly as if there was something in his eyes. Red was starting to flicker at the edges, and Hera took the moment to scramble away. Kanan staggered toward the woman, expression torn.

“No. No, you’re dead—”

Aggression bled into Kanan’s body and suddenly the serene woman went flying. The holoprojection flickered and for a moment Proxy’s skeletal form was revealed, purple energy lines flaring bright and revealing the lie. Kanan yelled and stumbled around, swiping at the air with the scythe blindly in his rage.

“No! No, stop!” Kanan cried, and the cry appeared to be directed at himself. Suddenly, Hera thought that maybe the wild motions of the scythe, they weren’t wild at all. The way Kanan’s wrist arched, the way he held his arm out and away from his body like it was infected ….

It looked like he was trying to fling it away. Only his fingers remained locked around the black metal.

“Kanan,” Hera breathed, pain forgotten as desperate hope blazed through her heart. “Kanan!”

In an instant Kanan’s attention was back on her again, and it was Kanan. His eyes widened again, and they stared into Hera’s desperately. Hera saw the fear in his eyes, and despair. The mounting panic as he fought for control.

“Hera, please—!”

Whatever he’d meant to say was choked off as he clambered away. Kanan’s hands clawed at his face, and when his eyes opened again, the red was back. The snarl on his face was vicious. The sharp edge of the scythe began to glow a brilliant red.

“You’ll pay for that, droid,” the Shade promised, voice laced with malice. “You may have caught me off guard, but it won’t happen again. I’ll destroy you. Leave you for scrap back on that junk planet. No one will want you then. Not when I’m done—!”

The Shade roared as ropes of metal cable wrapped around his body and snagged him tight from three different sides, pinning his arms to his body and his legs against each other. Though the scythe was still in his hand, it was rendered immobile by the tension of the cables were the others held them tight. It’s seething blade couldn’t twitch from where it hung uselessly.

Relief swelled through Hera.

They’d done it. They’d caught him.

“You think you’ve captured me? You think this will hold me?” the Shade screamed as if started to struggle, Kanan’s long hair loose and whipping around in tangles as it attempted to thrash in its bonds. “You can’t keep this up!”

“We can keep it long enough,” Hera said seriously as she approached, deactivating Ezra’s lightsaber. “Long enough to free Kanan.”

“That’s what you think!”

Pressure seized her neck like an invisible hand squeezing the air from her throat. In panic, she reached up to relieve the pressure, hissing when it only jarred her shoulder injury and forced her to sacrifice precious air. Her eyes flashed around the room desperately. Chopper warbled loud and angry.

Electricity surged through the cables, shocking the Shade, and as it screamed the pressure around her throat vanished. Hera choked as she toppled forward, but managed to catch herself as she placed a hand protectively over her neck. She watched as Chopper lifted his electroshock-prod from the cable Zeb was holding. She hoped that would be enough to also force the Shade to drop the scythe, but it wasn’t. The Shade gasped for breath, red eyes narrowed menacingly as it looked up at her. The scythe was still clenched in his hand.

“Oh, torture?” the Shade said with a thin grin that was nothing but teeth. “Be careful what you all decide to dish out. I’ll give back in spades, promise you that.”

Now that she was on her feet again, in pain, angry from everything that was happening, and worried from that single dreadful moment Kanan had broken free long enough to beg her for something she couldn’t even begin to guess at, Hera didn’t hesitate. Not when the Shade was stupid enough to threaten them while it was caught like this.

“Chopper, again.”

Voltage coursed through the cables a second time, and though the Shade screeched and went limp when the electricity stopped, the scythe was still gripped in its hand. This time when the Shade turned his eyes up, it was directed at Chopper and there was nothing but deadly rage there.

“Do it again, droid,” the Shade hissed. “I  _dare_ you.”

Chopper warbled rapid binary, clamps raised in the air and electroshock-prod sizzling brightly in retaliation.

“Let Kanan go,” Hera demanded as she stared the monster controlling Kanan down. Those eyes flashed to hers, and though she waited for the constriction around her throat again, it didn’t come.

It scowled. “No can do. I’ve waited months to get him back. He’s mine.”

“He’s not,” she shot back. “He may have made you, but you don’t own him.”

The laughter which raced out of its mouth was chilling.

“That’s what you think. Let me guess? You’re going to try to pry me away from him, aren’t you? It won’t work.”

“Yes, it will,” Ezra exclaimed. “You can’t control him if you’re out of reach.”

“Oh, that used to be true,” the Shade agreed with a nasty smile. “But that’ll change soon enough. You know, you’re the ones that weakened him enough so that I could take over. All that caring and love and happiness? It lowered his defenses. Put him off guard. This never would have happened if you hadn’t convinced him to change his routine. He was always so aware.” The Shade’s grin widened. “Really, I have to thank all of you for this. If not for all of your help, I’d have never been able to hold on as tight as I am now.”

“You’re wrong!” Ezra snarled.

“I’m not and you know it, Jedi brat!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hera said firmly. “One way or another, we’re making you release Kanan.”

The Shade laughed.

“There’s only one way to do that, and I’ll even tell you what it is.” The Shade’s lips spread wide in a ghastly grin, showing every tooth and twisting Kanan’s handsome face into something macabre and terrifying. “Kill him.”

“What?” Hera said in bewildered reflex. “No!”

“You want me gone, don’t you? You want me to let him go? You want to stop me? Well, that’s the only way to do it because I’m not letting go of him.”

“He’s still in there,” Ezra barked, his pull on his cable tight and relentless. “We all saw him break your hold! I can still feel him! We’re not killing him when he can still come back.”

“You’re wrong, runt,” the Shade crooned as if it were speaking to a particularly stupid child. “Whatever light you think you feel, it’s darkening too fast for you to do anything about it. He won’t come out of it again. I’m drowning him out. Consuming him. Soon there won’t be anything left. Nothing but anger and pain and guilt. Nothing but _me_.”

“That’s not true,” Hera declared, refusing to believe this monster. “He’s stronger than that! He just proved it!”

“He’s not,” tisked the Shade. “Why do you think I took control? Your Kanan, he’s weak. He’s always been weak.”

“He’s fought you off for years. That’s not weakness!” Ezra yelled. When he spoke again, it was clear he wasn’t addressing the Shade anymore, but his master. “Kanan, I know you can hear me, you have to fight it off!”

“He can’t hear you!” bellowed the Shade, its voice echoing through the atrium like thunder. “Your words can’t reach him anymore! None of you can. The only way to save your precious Kanan is to kill him. And you know what? Go ahead! I dare you! I dare you to do it. It’s the only way to stop me!”

Madness and hatred covered Kanan’s face, filled his voice, and Hera was stunned. What sort of choice was that? It wasn’t even a choice at all. She couldn’t do it for the same reason Ezra couldn’t. Kanan, he had to be in there somewhere. Months together, working with him, watching him grow into something better, growing closer to him and nurturing the warm thing between them, she knew Kanan was still in there. She’d seen it.

And so long as he was in there, she couldn’t give up on him.

But how was she supposed to get the Shade to drop the scythe and let Kanan go, without killing Kanan? The question must have been visible in her eyes because the Shade burst into laughter.

“You can’t do it!” the Shade cackled with glee, even as he struggled against the combined holds of Sabine, Zeb, and Ezra. “I knew you couldn’t. You love him too much to hurt him. You’re weak. That’s why, once I get free — because you know I will — I’m going to kill you.”

Its eyes seemed to glow that much redder, the promise sure and oddly intimate. “I’ll do it slowly, because he adores you. I’ll make you scream. He loves your voice, you know. I wonder how he’ll love it when I have you begging from pain. Begging to die. I promise  _darling_ , I will make you beg.”

The mad insanity in the Shade’s voice was harder to listen to because for a moment, just a moment, it had used Kanan’s voice. His vocal patterns, the ones she was so familiar with. The ones he used only with her. Hera’s heart froze, and it was suddenly a struggle to remember that this wasn’t Kanan. This wasn’t Kanan!

The Shade continued, its glowing red eyes jerking around to look at the others. “I’m going to kill you, darling, and then I’ll kill your crew. I’ll kill the Lasat and skin him. Sell his pelt.” Zeb’s scowl was unlike anything Hera ever seen, tense and sick, even as he forced himself to stand unwavering. Ice built around Hera’s heart.

“Then I’ll do the girl a favor when I kill her and turn her into beautiful art. It’ll be inspired, all over the walls just all the rest of the art she does. You’ll like that, won’t you?” Its eyes locked on Sabine, and though her face was concealed, Hera saw the way Sabine’s shoulders tightened. The ice around Hera’s heart sunk deeper.

“The droids will be next and it’ll be fun taking them apart piece by piece. And once that’s over I’ll finally get to work killing the brat he loves so much. I haven’t quite decided what I’ll do with you yet, boy. Flaying? Gutting?” The Shade’s eyes gleamed in appraisal as they locked on Ezra. Then they softened in mock care. “It’ll have to be something truly special. Heartfelt. Maybe _that’s_ what I’ll do?” Kanan’s face pulled into a terrible grin. “I’ll rip out your still beating heart. Then I’ll eat it. Let you bleed out and die as you watch your own master eat you alive.”

Ezra scowled at the possessed body of his master, then gritted his teeth as he held his line tighter with renewed vigor. But Ezra had gone pale, and that scared Hera more than anything. This … this must be worse than anything Ezra had ever experienced. And if Ezra was afraid the Shade might actually carry out its intentions, they were in more than just trouble right now.

If they couldn’t stop this Shade, if it got free again, then they really would die. And Hera had a sinking feeling what the Shade was about to say next when its grin turned obscene with pleasure.

“And then, once I’m done, I’ll let go just enough for him to see what he’s done with his own two hands. See the magnificence of his wrath. The power of the dark side. He’ll break. You know he will. He’ll break. He’ll fall. All the careful balance he’s been trying so hard to maintain, all this love you’ve been trying to force-feed him to make him better, it’ll all vanish. It’ll just be us, me and him. Me and his anger and we’ll be one then. Nothing will stop me, and—!”

With a heart made of stone, Hera narrowed her eyes, lifted Ezra’s lightsaber, toggled the blaster, and fired.

The Shade jerked and snarled, bared its teeth at her like an animal, but when it didn’t go down with the first shot, she shot it again before it could start talking. Another ball of glowing white light careened into the Shade and it howled in pain.

Still, it didn’t go down, even if it looked so weak it could barely cling to consciousness. Kanan’s body trembled violently. One single chuckle slipped out of its mouth.

“Knew you liked it rough, sweetheart,” the Shade huffed with a faint voice. “But I really should tell you that if you do that again, you might kill him. Are you willing to take that chance?”

Hera fired again.

The Shade’s eyes rolled back, Kanan’s body falling slack and motionless as the scythe clattered to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? I don’t really know what to say or comment about this chapter except that I hoped you liked it? That it was enjoyable? Seems a little strange to say that after everything that’s happened and the unknown of what’s coming in the future. Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought about it though. Good news is that Shade!Kanan is down!
> 
> But is that a good thing?
> 
> As always, a great place to keep up with me and any of my stories is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). I’ve been a little bad about sticking to my update schedule, but it’s still worth a look I think.


	28. Capture

Ezra’s lightsaber dropped from Hera’s hand where it clacked against the stone floor and fell still. She couldn’t feel her hands. She couldn’t feel anything except the resolute numbness which had fallen over her, and it was starting to fade away. Her body trembled as she stared at the limp form of Kanan’s body, held upright by the wrangling cables. She saw the vile scythe, deadly and useless on the ground beside him where it had fallen after that third and final shot.

That single moment in time seemed to have stopped as Hera waited for some indication that Kanan was still alive. A breath. A twitch. A groan.  _Something_. But with his head bowed forward, his hair concealing not only his face, but any movement of his chest as well, he might as well have been dead. A fallen, broken thing, with no life.

She almost stumbled when she shuffled a foot forward. Her legs turned weak when reality mixed with the mounting wave of horror building in her chest at what she’d just done. A thin mist lined her eyes, tears burning the backs of them like a punishment. Her lungs hitched.

“Kanan?” Hera took another step forward, a little stronger than the first. It gave her strength enough to use its momentum to make it the rest of the way, just short of touching him. Her heart clenched brutally as, even this close, she still couldn’t tell if he was alive or not. She suspected the worst. “Kanan?”

One of the lines maintaining Kanan went slack, and Hera gasped and jerked to the side when the scythe abruptly twitched on the ground. Too late she wished she still had Ezra’s lightsaber. Without a doubt, if she’d had any weapon at all, she’d have used it against that black monstrosity. What could it possibly do next? What more could it force them to endure?

But it didn’t move toward her. Instead it lifted with eerie presence. Seeing it hang in the air like that brought forth a burst of sudden and inconceivable rage which replaced her fear. Dead or not, she threw herself between it and Kanan. Her rage boiled with ready action, because if that thing was going to try again, if that  _thing_  was going to do more—!

“It’s just me! I’ve got it,” Ezra assured as he ran forward, his hand outstretched and face focused. Now she saw he was using the Force to manipulated it, not that it was somehow moving on its own. Her shoulders relaxed even as Ezra’s brows pinched in concentration. “Stand back.”

More than happy to give Ezra all the space he needed, he slowed to a walk as he passed her, the scythe floating in front of him. They all watched as the boy carefully threaded the tip of the blade into the metal sheath embedded in the floor. To her surprise, it began to sizzle, grinding against the sheath as if actively fighting Ezra. Ezra was clearly having none of that because, baring his teeth, the blade sank in with a violent clang.

When the sound had faded and the weapon did nothing more than fill space, together their attentions returned to Kanan where Sabine and Zeb were slowly lowering the man to the ground. Ezra dashed past her, quickly pulling the cables off were they lay coiled and heavy around Kanan’s body, and all the while Hera’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Ezra,” she breathed, terrified to ask the question even though she knew she had to. “Ezra, is he—?”

Her voice cut off, unable to finish the sentence. Ezra didn’t answer her, not immediately. Once the cables were off, he laid his master on the ground and checked for a pulse, checked for breath, then set his ear on Kanan’s chest and listened.

Hera couldn’t think of a time in her life when the silence was as deafening as it was now, as they waited for Ezra’s verdict.

“He’s alive,” Ezra finally said, relief laced with a brutal wobble in his voice as he pressed his face into Kanan’s chest. Ezra’s back heaved silently as one of the boy’s hands reached up to fist a handful of his black hair tightly, his arm hiding is face away. When he spoke again, his voice was choked and thick, and Hera had no doubt he was on the verge of tears. “He’s alive.”

Relief swept through her, and she knew she was on the verge of tears herself. She hadn’t killed him. Kanan was alive. Sabine let out a measured breath but Zeb refused to relax, given the pinched look on his face.

“That’s good, and I’m as relieved by the news as everyone else is,” Zeb said as he cautiously walked over. “But are we sure he won’t act like …  _that_ again when he wakes up?”

An uncomfortable silence greeted the Lasat’s words, and when Ezra looked up again, eyes red-rimmed and tight, worry was there.

“I don’t know, Zeb. This has never happened before. I … I can’t be sure of anything. I think its hold on him is gone, but until he wakes up ….”

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” Sabine asked instead, and again Ezra appeared to be at a loss as he studied Kanan’s unconscious form.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had to fire three shots at a human target before. Might be minutes. Might be longer.”

Hera slowly lowered herself on the other side of Kanan, pulling off a glove so she could feel his pulse herself. After a moment she found it, steady and slow, but alive and strong. Relief was too weak a word to describe what she felt in that instant. That final shot, it had been one of the biggest gambles of her life. She truly had not known if Kanan would survive it or not. If the Shade had been bluffing.

She’d only hoped, and knew that despite what happened, she couldn’t let the Shade get free again.

But here Kanan was. She hadn’t killed him. He was strong.

A pain-filled, wheezing groan slipped into the air from the unconscious man and Hera froze, along with everyone else. The stun was wearing off.

Seemed they were about to find out if their work had been successful or not.

Kanan’s chest heaved, and though Hera wanted to reach out, she stayed right where she was just in case it still wasn’t him. Ezra waited, his body as tense as hers while he reached out with his hand. His lightsaber flew into it. Though Hera saw the slight tremor his hand gave, Ezra leveled it at his master’s chest, blaster ready as both Sabine and Zeb stood by with the cables, just in case.

Kanan’s face scrunched up before panic swept across it. He cried out, his eyes jerking wide open as his body thrashed.

His eyes were a terrified, beautiful, familiar milk-white.

“Kanan!” Hera said as she reached for him, clasping onto a shoulder to ground him in place as best she could while giving him something stable to cling to. “Kanan, calm down! You’re all right.”

“The scythe,” he babbled, scrambling before a large hand seized upon Hera’s good arm. “Hera, the scythe—!”

“Calm down, Kanan,” she soothed, her voice hitching as too many emotions threatened to overwhelm her all at once. “We forced it to let you go.”

Ezra’s breath came in a sharp, alarmed draw, and behind her a growing metallic clatter filled the air. She chanced a glace over her shoulder, and with dread saw the scythe was vibrating in its sheath, shaking enough that the long handle appeared to waver in the air.

It looked like it was trying to wrench free.

“No!” Ezra exclaimed as he surged to his feet, hand raised and a vicious look of determination set in his blue eyes. The boy snarled. “Not again!”

“What’s going on?” Hera demanded, though she suspected she already knew.

“Now that Kanan’s awake, it’s trying to make its way back to him. We need to knock him out again.” Ezra snapped his eyes at Proxy. “Proxy, hurry! We need a sedative right now!”

The droid threw itself into action, and all the while Kanan lay next to her, shaking and gaping like a beached fish as he struggled with words. His eyes rolled and his gaze was unfocused. She wondered if he even realized what was going on.

“Everyone’s-everyone’s—!”

“Shh, luv,” Hera shushed quickly as she smoothed his hair away from his face and prayed Proxy would hurry. “Everyone’s fine. We’re all fine. We got the scythe away from you.”

Kanan still shook, the fear in his eyes showing, and behind her she heard Ezra grunt with exertion. Sweat prickled along her back, quiet anxiety growing stronger and stronger. “Ezra? Is he—?”

“He’s fine, luv, trust me,” she urged, trying to calm him down in the hopes that that would help. Near her, Sabine shifted uneasily. Zeb was already striding purposefully toward Ezra, and Hera hoped the young Jedi wouldn’t need the Lasat’s help if the worst happened again. “We’re all fine.”

“You?”

Hera’s throat constricted, strangling her words and instead she took his hand and clenched it tightly. Her shoulder ached and burned from the motion, but she didn’t care. She was just relieved. Thankful because for now this was Kanan. Her Kanan. The one who cared and was guilty and hurt and real.

“I’m going to be fine too,” she promised, her voice strained with emotion she could barely contain. “It’s not me I’m worried about right now.”

Mechanical steps heralded Proxy’s return and he knelt by Kanan’s head, tipping it back to expose his neck. Kanan started to thrash again, but Hera drew his attention back to her with a hand on his cheek and a weak smile on her lips.

“Listen, luv. You’re going to sleep for a while, all right? I need you to trust me. We’ll take care of everything, but you need to rest.”

His eyes were tired and torn, but they were locked on hers. She was fairly certain he’d forgotten all about Proxy, because a moment later his body relaxed enough that the droid could place the hypo.

“Hera,” he said, and Proxy chose then to inject the sedative. The effect was immediate. Kanan’s pale eyes closed, his body going lax as his head drooped against her hand. His breathing stabilized into long, deep draws.

Behind her, the clattering of the scythe ceased. A collective sigh of relief filled the atrium.

No one spoke for a long time. After Kanan’s rescue, the Inquisitor, then the Shade, it was hard for Hera not to expect some other threat to present itself now that things were settling. But the seconds turned into a minute, and the minute was peaceful enough to turn into another, and the longer it went the more her body wilted.

Zeb stepped off to the side and let the weight of his bulk collapse heavily on one of the long benches in front of the work tables, and soon Sabine took a relieved seat next to him. Ezra — after giving Hera a quick, questioning glance concerning Kanan — moved toward Rosie, who was still out cold. Hera didn’t miss the way the Jedi moved in a way which kept the scythe constantly in view.

The scythe itself sat quiet. After that last show, however, there was no doubt in her mind it was anywhere near docile. It was waiting, and that disturbed her most of all.

“All right,” she finally said as she beat through her fatigue to assume the mantle of leader, when all she wanted right now was to sleep for a year. “Now that everything has tentatively calmed down, we need to figure out what our next move is.”

“Get rid of that thing, for starters,” Zeb said with a scowl, nodding to the scythe. “That’s what was controlling Kanan? That’s bad news.”

“Can it be destroyed?” Hera asked Ezra, and she wasn’t comforted by the slow shrug Ezra gave her when he looked up from his nexu.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think so. It makes sense. It’s a Force weapon, so in theory if Kanan doesn’t keep feeding it, it’ll weaken into nothing but a regular scythe on its own. I just wouldn’t know how long that might take, and I sure as hell am not willing to wait that long.”

“Wait a minute,” Sabine said sharply. “Kanan’s been feeding that thing? He knew what it was?”

“Let’s not focus on that right now,” Hera interrupted before the conversation took a turn she didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with right now. “We’re all in agreement we need to get rid of it. How are we going to do that?”

“We could melt it down,” Sabine suggested. The Mandalorian gave Hera a look which told her she wasn’t happy about this new news, and would be demanding an explanation later.

“It’s gotta be hotter than something like a forge,” Ezra said immediately. “It’s a Force weapon. It’s strong enough to withstand a lightsaber.”

“Throw it into a star, then? Is that hot enough?” Hera suggested. Was it so powerful it could resist the heat of a star?

Ezra shrugged again. “It might work. I think it would be hot enough. But even if it wasn’t, it would be pretty much impossible to pull out again even if it took a long time to weaken.” Though it sounded plausible, Hera frowned when he didn’t sound as confident about the response as she’d have liked.

Chopper warbled a suggestion, and Zeb lifted an eyebrow at Sabine.

“Chop thinks we should throw it into a black hole.”

Zeb looked impressed. “I like the rustbucket’s idea. Black hole sounds good.”

“Maybe,” Ezra muttered. “I think the gravitational field would eventually destroy it once its sucked in, but I don’t know about you guys. I want to know it’s destroyed. Not just sitting for eternity on an event horizon.”

“Hmm, we could try throwing it into an imploded star cluster,” Sabine supplied. “That’s about the nastiest thing I can think of, next to a black hole. The gravity should tear it apart, and if it makes it past that, the star cluster inside should be hot enough to melt it down. And there’s no getting it out once it’s in.”

Hera looked at Ezra. Again, he was at a loss for words and Hera knew it was time to let the topic go for now. Now that they were all thinking again, pieces were falling back into place. She felt more in control. “We’ll go with that, then. Right now, we need to secure the base and take care of injuries.”

“Well, I know there aren’t any other intruders inside the base,” Ezra admitted. “I can’t say anything about outside it though. Who knows if the Inquisitor came alone?”

Chopper rolled toward the command console and plugged in, taking on the assignment with a soft gurgle. While he did that, Hera checked in with AP-5.

“AP, how’s everything out there?”

It was a moment before the comlink clicked on in response, and the protocol droid’s droning voice came through. “Nothing to report, Captain. The scanners have picked up nothing while you’ve been away.”

“Good,” she replied, pleased that something was finally going their way. “I need you to gather what bacta and medical supplies you can and come in here. You’ll be using the base’s monitoring systems for the time being.”

“Of course, but I did inform you three weeks ago that we were running low on medical supplies after that debacle on Marsasis. Running around as we have, there’s hardly been opportunity to gather more.”

“We have a small supply here as well,” Proxy supplemented. “It should be enough for whatever medical needs arise.”

“Enough for burns, I hope,” Hera said with a weak smile, her wound throbbing as if it knew she was talking about it. Proxy nodded.

“More than enough, I believe. And for Rosie.”

Ezra let out a relieved sigh, and Hera nodded. Another problem solved.

“All right. Just bring what you can, AP-5.”

The protocol droid signed off with a droning grumble, and Hera couldn’t help but smile at its overwhelming normalcy. Oh, the little things.

At the command console, Chopper chittered as he finished checking the base’s sensors.

“Chopper has detected a shuttle he suspects the Inquisitor was using when she came here,” Proxy translated. “It’s not far away.”

“Well, then we’d better go check it out. Make sure there aren’t any trackers on board the Empire could use to find this place,” Sabine said, shoving herself onto her feet before she nodded at Chopper. “Come on, Chop.”

“While she takes care of that, let’s get to work moving this fool to a bed. Then we’ll get everyone patched up,” Zeb grunted as he pulled himself out of his seat before holstering his bo-rifle. He nodded to Proxy. “I’ll need your help moving him. Then moving the Inquisitor’s body outside.” At the mention of the Inquisitor, Hera looked over to where the mauled body lay, grotesque and torn. In the wake of everything, she’d all but forgotten about the Imperial.

Proxy nodded. “Of course.”

“Don’t put him in his room,” Ezra said as he carefully examined Rosie’s injuries. “It doesn’t matter which other room you put him in, just … not his room.”

“Come on,” Hera said. “We’ll put him in mine.”

Over the months they’d been working with Kanan and Ezra, she and her crew had slowly laid claim to certain rooms whenever they decided to spend the night — which had been happening with growing frequency. Hers was the same room she’d spent her first night here in, and she absolutely agreed with Ezra that putting Kanan in his lightless, mausoleum of a room was a bad idea. Besides, hers was closer, and it would be easier to keep an eye on him from there.

As she stood from the ground when Zeb and Proxy picked Kanan’s prone body up, she couldn’t hide the grimace of pain which shot across her face. Zeb frowned.

“After we’re finished with Kanan and the Inquisitor, I’m patching you up first thing.”

The look in the Lasat’s face was a familiar, stubborn one, and one she knew better than to push back against, even if she lacked the energy to try. Besides, as their medic, he’d probably already triaged everyone. As far as she knew, no one else had gotten as injured as badly as she had — excusing Rosie, who Ezra was already beginning to work on. Hera nodded, but before she left she called out to Ezra.

“Ezra, are you going to be all right here?”

She didn’t bother hiding the way her voice tilted up at the end, even as her eyes flicked to the scythe. The young Jedi looked up at her and gave her a tight smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s actually better if I’m the only one around it for now, I think. At least, while everyone’s getting settled. Just take care of Kanan and yourself. I’ll comm you if anything changes.”

“You should take care of yourself as well, Ezra,” Hera said with concern. Ezra’s eyes turned hard.

“I’ll do that when the scythe is gone and Kanan’s better.”

Hera’s chest heaved with a heavy breath but she let this fight go. It was easy to understand why he’d be reluctant, when such a large threat had almost killed them all; one he’d been living with for as long as he’d been with Kanan.

When she entered her room, Proxy and Zeb had already placed Kanan on the bed and were moving past her to take care of the Inquisitor’s body and retrieve the medical supplies Zeb would need to fix her shoulder. They closed the door behind them and, in the quite of the room, all she could hear was Kanan’s steady breath mixing with the sound of her own.

The moment was surreal.

It was hard to believe that only a few days ago, everything had been fine. When she’d last seen Kanan, he’d been so alive. Maybe happy was a strong word for how he’d looked to her, but he’d been smiling and better. So different from the man she’d reencountered months ago, who’d been dark and moody.

And now this.

Hera pulled the chair from the corner and set it next to the bed. Part of her was … uncomfortable, being this close to Kanan. Although logically she knew he was still himself under the sedation, and that the scythe wasn’t controlling him anymore, her heart still prickled with a tiny pulse of terror. It mixed with the doubts attempting to form in her mind. Doubts which made her wonder if they’d really saved him at all. That, if he opened his eyes again, despite how he’d been himself after they’d gotten the scythe away from him, they might be red.

That the Shade was still in there, and that it would do all those awful things it had promised to do, now that they’d let their guard down and were vulnerable.

Hera ignored the ping in her heart and reached out to take Kanan’s hand in hers. She frowned when she saw that the palm of his right hand was badly burned. Likely from the scythe. Even he hadn’t escaped its torment. Maybe him least of all.

Gently placing that one down, palm up so Zeb would see it when he came in next, Hera reached for his left. That one was in better shape, and she held it firmly, letting her fingers curl around his limp knuckles. Hera closed her eyes and could feel the warmth there. The life.

His hand didn’t so much as twitch when she put it back down and let it go. Now that she was settled, now that everything seemed to have truly calmed down, the fatigue was hitting her hard. Lifting her eyelids and keeping them open was becoming a struggle, and if Zeb didn’t hurry back soon, she was at risk of falling asleep.

But she fought it back by studying Kanan, and as she continued to trace her eyes over his sleeping form, she hoped and prayed that the worst was behind them.

* * *

 

Ezra held Kanan’s hand between his own as he pressed it against his brow and he closed his eyes. It had been years since he’d last held Kanan’s hand. Not since he was a young boy still reeling from the loss of his parents, struggling with his new life with only this one person to guide him through it.

It struck him that, even after so long, Kanan’s hand still felt so big in his own. That he still felt like that small boy who needed and depended on him, despite his intent to become a Jedi and the intensive training he’d undergone.

With Kanan like this, unconscious and teetering on the fine line between light and dark, Ezra didn’t know what he should do. Kanan had always been there to give him guidance. To help him find a way, if he couldn’t find it himself. But now that it was Kanan who was lost, Kanan who needed help, all Ezra could focus on was the worry. The nagging feeling that he might get this wrong. That what he was about to do wouldn’t help at all, and he would fail the most important person in his life.

It was paralyzing, and he hadn’t felt like this since he lost his parents. Ever since training to become a Jedi, he’d worked hard to be careful about attachment. He wasn’t perfect, sure, and having a master like Kanan didn’t make it any easier, but there was no denying that he’d become attached to Kanan. Just like Kanan had become attached to him.

And now this.

A warm hand gently squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up to see Sabine waiting, a kind smile on her lips.

“Everything’s ready. Just waiting on you.”

Ezra gave her a tired smile, missing the feel of her hand on his shoulder as it slid off a moment later. The feel of it lingered though, comforting and real.

“Thanks, Sabine. I’ll be right out.”

“No hurry,” she replied as she looked between him and Kanan, gaze softening. “Just wanted to let you know I’m good to go when you are.”

“Trust me, I won’t be long,” he quietly chuckled back, a dark touch edging the tone. “I’ve been waiting years to do this. I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”

He looked back at Kanan as Sabine left, and as he stared at his sleeping master, conviction grew in his chest as his words echoed in his ears.

This was ending. Today, he was going to get rid of the scythe. Today he was going to do what Kanan had done for him all his life, and take care of him, for once.

It had only been one day since they’d returned to find the Inquisitor in their home and had to deal with the threat of the scythe. Everything that had followed moved fast, even if he’d wanted it all to move faster. They’d been lucky. There hadn’t been any trackers in the Imperial shuttle when Chopper and Sabine checked it, so there wasn’t much threat that they were going to be invaded by the Empire. With that weight off their minds, and wounds patched up, a plan came together quickly.

Using the Inquisitor’s shuttle, he and Sabine would take the scythe to the nearest imploded star cluster and destroy it while the others stayed here to keep an eye on Kanan and recover. There would be a lot of Imperial space to pass through, so they’d take the Imperial shuttle as opposed to a ship like the  _Kasmiri_  for discretion. They needed to get rid of it anyway, and that was why, after they were done, they’d crash it or abandon it somewhere and call for a pick-up.

Then, once he was back and the sedative in his master had worn off, they were going to have a _very_ long talk.

So long as this all worked out as planned, anyway.

“It will,” Ezra said to himself as he squeezed Kanan’s hand in his again before he set it down. “It’s going to work, Master. You’re going to be fine.” Ezra stared down at Kanan with determination. Kanan continued to sleep, oblivious to the world around him, and Ezra prayed that this would work.

Then he turned and left. Only one thing left to do now, and it was the thing he’d been putting off longest.

He had to get the scythe.

“Ready?” Hera asked when he entered the atrium. She’d volunteered with Chopper and AP-5 to watch the scythe while he spent some time with Kanan. Zeb sat hunched over, asleep after a long night on guard with Proxy and the other droids doing the same.

After the plan had been made, and it became clear Ezra was a necessary part of it, it was agreed Ezra needed sleep if he was going to keep the scythe suspended the entire trip through the Force. Ezra, for one, didn’t trust the weapon enough not to burn a hole through the bottom of the ship out of spite, and no one else had thought it unlikely at this point either. He needed to be mentally aware to keep it under control. He needed rest.

Ezra hadn’t wanted to. Frankly, the last thing he’d wanted to do was take his eyes off the scythe, but there was also no way he was willing to risk this turning out badly just because he hadn’t been prepared. So Zeb had kept watch the whole night, and when Ezra couldn’t work past four hours of spotty sleep anyway, he kept Ezra company through the rest of it. When Ezra had left half an hour ago to sit with Kanan, Zeb had been awake, but he could see now he’d been holding out for Ezra’s sake.

The Lasat’s ears twitched in his sleep, and much as Ezra wanted to smile at that, the smile felt far away when faced with what he had to do. He nodded to Hera, even as he approached the Force weapon.

“I’m ready to get this over with.”

“Wait.”

Hera stood and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her arm was in a sling to keep it from moving around and agitating her injury or the bandage there supplying a steady stream of bacta to it, and she winced a little at the movement. Despite the pain, she caught his eyes.

“Be careful, all right?” she said. “And let us know the moment it’s done.”

For Hera, Ezra managed to find the strength to smile and he touched her arm. What she’d done yesterday, what she’d had to do yesterday for all of them … Ezra couldn’t think of anyone stronger than Hera. With all of their lives on the line, with Kanan’s life on the line — and more than that, his very being — Hera had found the courage to do what had to be done, no matter how painful the outcome. Ezra knew that never in a million years could he have done what she had.

And he was beyond grateful to her, even if the thought of his master dead made him feel sick.

“The very moment,” he promised, before his lips twisted. “I just hope that this works.”

“You and me both,” she agreed before she pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Good luck.”

“Just take care of Kanan while I’m gone. The sedative should be wearing off soon, and I don’t know how he’s going to feel.” Ezra’s shoulders slumped. “Probably nothing good. He’s going to need you.”

“And you,” Hera said pointedly before she moved away. “Like you said. Let’s get this over with.”

Ezra nodded, but before he used the Force to take the scythe, a weak growl slipped from the corner. The bond swelled and animalistic concern edged at him. Ezra gave his nexu a tired smile before he crossed the room to where she rested. 

For the most part Rosie was recovering nicely, though he was keeping her mildly sedated. With the help of calming impressions through their bond, she’d been calm and docile; a gigantic Loth-cat instead of a fearsome nexu. But right now it was clear she sensed he was leaving, and it was also clear she either wanted to go with him, or didn’t want him to leave at all. Somehow she’d managed to struggle to her feet, wobbling a little even as he approached.

A deep rumble swelled from her massive chest when he reached out to touch her brow.

“It’s all right, girl. I’ll be back before you know it,” Ezra promised as he stroked her fur with a gentle hand, reluctant to be separated from her after everything that had happened just as much as she was. But if all went well, he wouldn’t be gone too long. After he and Sabine got rid of the scythe, they’d come right back. Everything would be fine.

But that meant they had to get rid of the scythe, and the sooner that happened the better. Which was why he reluctantly pulled his hand from Rosie’s brow, even when she mewled and shifted with antsy energy on her paws, leaving shallow gouges on the ground.

But in the Force, he impressed upon her to stay and behave. Once they were gone, Proxy would feed her slightly stronger sedatives which would keep her calm and sleepy so she could rest and heal, and the risk of her attacking the others would be lower. Zeb knew how to handle the wrangling cables now. If worse came to worse, he could use them again. Besides, he wouldn’t be gone that long. She might sleep through it all, if he was lucky.

His nexu gave a huge sigh before she dropped to her belly and placed her head on her massive paws. Her quills drooped, but she made no move to follow after him.

“That’s my girl,” Ezra praised before he gave her another set of impression instructions. “Keep an eye on everyone. And listen to Zeb and Hera.”

A small growl was the only response he got, and he smiled regardless. Then he turned and focused all his attention on the scythe.

It was time.

Reaching with the Force, the scythe slid out of the sheath, collapsed down into its travel position, and hung in the air. Dark side energy festered within it, and even holding it in the Force like this was an uncomfortable experience. But he forced himself to get used to it. He’d be holding it like this for hours. He could do this.

Carefully he made his way through the tunnel and out into the quiet Lothal air. It was early morning. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. The hatch for the shuttle was already open and Sabine was in the pilot’s seat waiting for him. Ezra sat in the back, settling in as he kept the scythe in the air in front of him.

“Ready?” Sabine asked as she closed the hatch, and Ezra nodded with complete seriousness.

“Let’s go.”

Sabine activated the flight sequence. The shuttle rose, exited the atmosphere and entered hyperspace.

Ezra stared at the weapon in front of him, the weapon that had been the bane of his and Kanan’s existence for years now. _Finally_ , it would be destroyed. He didn’t know what Kanan would do when he woke up to find it gone. Would he be relieved? Angry? Angry enough to try and make another one? Ezra didn’t know, but he was never going to let that happen again. Kanan had a lot of baggage in his past, baggage Ezra knew that caused his master a great deal of psychological pain, if Kanan’s constant nightmares were anything to go by.

Whatever it took, he’d do what he could to help Kanan let his suffering go and move on. No more assassinations as the Reaper or Rider. That stopped.

He just hoped it would take.

The trip felt long. Sabine hadn’t moved much from her seat up front, but that was at Ezra’s request. For her own safety. He didn’t even want to be back here with the scythe. He’d much rather be up there with Sabine, passing the time with smiles and stories and maybe a little flirting, but even though he wanted to talk to her, he couldn’t spare the focus.

For some reason the scythe was pulsing dark side energy more strongly than Ezra had ever experienced before, ever since they’d left the safety of the temple barracks. It felt hot and eager, growing stronger the longer they traveled through space. Frankly, it was making him uncomfortable. Except when it was in Kanan’s hands until his master forced it into submission, it never tried to do this. Now it was practically singing arias in the Force, loud and pulsating despite everything Ezra tried to do to dampen it.

As the hours passed, his stomach had tightened into knots as the mystery ate at him. It was clearly up to something, but what? What was it trying now?

 _This isn’t going to work_ , a sinister voice whispered through his mind, making Ezra’s back prickle with sudden sweat and his spine straighten with a jerk.  _You’re never going to destroy me._

Instinctively Ezra intensified his hold in the Force, his back ridged, but the scythe did nothing. It sat there, unassuming in the air as it had been since he’d boarded. For all Ezra knew, he might have imagined the voice.

The creeping unease at the pit of his stomach made him think that wasn’t the case.

“Are we almost there yet?” he asked, eyes locked on the weapon as if it were a serpent about to strike.

“We’re about to come out of hyperspace for a second so I can make the next jump,” Sabine responded. “You still okay back there?”

No.

“I’m fine,” he said instead. But the bad feeling which had been growing in him since they’d left Lothal, it was solidifying in the Force. Much as he wished it was just the scythe trying to spook him, with each passing minute he was more and more certain that something was very wrong.

But what?

The starlines of hyperspace faded to the familiar black of space, and Ezra forced himself to take a calming breath. Nothing was going to happen. He was just on edge. That was all. It was just the scythe messing with him. It had to be.

Sabine gasped an instant before the shuttle gave a short jerk.

“What’s going on?” Ezra demanded, his heart dropping straight through the floor as he cast his eyes to the viewport. Sabine’s hands were moving rapidly along the controls, and her body was wrung taut like a wire. “Sabine?”

“It’s the Empire,” she said tightly. “The Empire’s here, Ezra. And somehow they’ve already got us in a tractor beam.”

Dread rolled through Ezra, and in the back of his mind, he thought he heard phantom laughter.

Attention torn, Ezra launched out of his seat and, with half a mind still maintaining his hold on the scythe, he moved up next to the Mandalorian. To his dismay, he saw she was right. An Imperial Star Destroyer hung over them like an ominous shadow.

And they were being pulled right toward it.

“Is there anything you can do? Convince it to let us go?”

“I’ve tried, but they aren’t opening communications, and this ship isn’t strong enough to fight something like that off,” Sabine told him, even as she tried something else and failed.

“Can you get a message out to the others?” he asked as ice slid down his spine. This wasn’t good. They were about to be captured by the Empire. The others needed to know.

“I tried that too, but they’re jamming us.” Her brown eyes were hard. “Ezra, there’s nothing we can do.”

He clenched his fist, mind racing, but all he could think about was that the Empire was about to capture him. And it was worse than that.

They were about to get Kanan’s scythe. The Reaper’s scythe. And if anyone besides him touched it, he had no doubt they’d become enthralled and the monster inside would be free again.

In the Force, he could all but feel the pleasure radiating from the weapon. Ezra’s knees felt weak. He collapsed into the copilot’s seat.

“Ezra?”

Ezra gave Sabine a worried look, but breathed through his nose and forced himself to master his growing fear.

“We need to escape as fast as we can,” he told her. “I’m going to do what I can to make sure the scythe doesn’t get into anyone’s hands, but if it does ….”

Sabine paled, and Ezra saw her throat shift as she swallowed in understanding.

“How … how likely do you think that’ll be?”

Ezra was tempted to lie. Instead he made a face and looked down.

“It’s likely, Sabine.”

She took a deep breath of her own and nodded, before checking her blasters and small hoard of grenades. Her lips pressed thin.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Ezra wished he believed her, but sometimes being a Force user came with disadvantages. Like knowing when someone was lying.

“If we’re lucky, there won’t be so many guards,” Sabine said, brainstorming out loud. “It might be possible for me to knock a couple out when they board, then impersonate them so we can escape.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Ezra said, trying to sound supportive as he kept an eye on the ship where grew bigger and bigger in the viewport. The landing platform was becoming visible and, at first, his heart rose because he thought he could only make out a small cluster of individuals waiting for them. Two or three, maybe. That … that might be manageable.

Then he noticed that one of the figures was dressed in black, and he felt something in the Force. It was hot and cloying. It swamped him in a wave, massive and uncomfortable and evil, and—

It was an Inquisitor. Another Inquisitor. And what was worse, it was the other one from Garel. The one Kanan had had to fight.

The one who’d killed his parents.

The scythe clattered to the ground and Sabine jumped in her seat beside him, but Ezra’s mind was momentarily shattered as memories from that night swarmed him. His father. His mother. The smell of fire and smoke burning away his life. The Grand Inquisitor’s spinning red blade as it took everything from him.

Despite everything he’d become, despite Kanan’s careful care and devotion to his training as a Jedi, Ezra felt as if he was seven again in that instant. Weak and vulnerable, about to face the nightmare which had destroyed his first life.

And there was no running away this time. And there was no one to miraculously save him again.

“Ezra?” Sabine said urgently, shaking his shoulder as her fear colored the Force. “Ezra!”

Ezra sucked in a breath, blinking and momentarily liberating himself from the cage that had been his mind. With a jolt, he realized they had already landed. Sabine’s eyes were tense and worried, and Ezra felt sick.

“There’s an Inquisitor out there,” he croaked. “The Grand Inquisitor. The one Kanan was fighting that day on Garel.” Ezra swallowed but it didn’t help. “Sabine … I don’t think we’re going to get out of this.”

They both startled when the ramp for the shuttle dropped as the dark side of the Force writhed, and Ezra clenched his hands and did his best to center himself. To hide his Force expression and the fact he was a Force user. That might fool the Inquisitor into thinking he was just some random person. No one special. After all, he wasn’t dressed as the Rider. There was nothing to prove who his alter-ego was. Who would even suspect?

But then his eyes dropped to the scythe. The Reaper’s scythe, and he knew there was no way he could talk his way around that.

Slow footsteps echoed up the ramp, and just as Ezra was about to reach for his lightsaber, it flew away, directly into a black-gloved palm. Sabine lifted her blasters and prepared to fire, but they were also pulled from her grasp and flung away. A pair of stormtroopers raced on board, seizing them painfully. They struggled, but Ezra froze when the figure in black finally came into view.

The Grand Inquisitor. The Pau’an that haunted his dreams.

“You two are most certainly not Imperials,” he said with a slight smirk. “Now, why would you possibly have an Imperial shuttle? And one which was last registered to a subordinate of mine?”

“Just found it on some backwater moon and decided to take it for a joyride,” Sabine grunted. “Never been on an Imperial shuttle before. Thought we’d test it out. It’s not that great.”

“Is that so?” the Inquisitor drawled as he considered her before he stopped in front of the scythe where it lay on the floor. His yellow eyes gleamed and Ezra felt the dark side of the Force intensify, as if those two dark energies were melding together. Communicating. The Inquisitor’s eyes lifted to Ezra and the triumphant, knowing look there made Ezra turn cold. “Somehow, I think not.”

The Grand Inquisitor lifted his hand over the scythe. The Force surged and alarm shot through Ezra like lightning as he fought against the hold of the stormtrooper restraining him. The Grand Inquisitor. The Grand Inquisitor and Kanan’s scythe?

Raw panic ate him alive.

“No, don’t!”

The Grand Inquisitor’s hand wrapped around the black metal of the scythe, his glove whispering like a mistress’s caress over it, and Ezra’s face fell. This was horrible. _Worse_ than horrible. Now that the scythe was in the Grand Inquisitor’s hands, it would take him over and who knew what sort of hellish monster would be created? He waited for the red to fill the Inquisitor’s already eerie yellow eyes. He waited for it to look upon him with vengeance and malice and glee.

The Grand Inquisitor did not. Instead, he regarded the weapon with approving interest.

“Well, isn’t it strange that you should have something so valuable as the Reaper’s scythe?” he questioned, smooth as ever. His lips pulled up. “Wouldn’t you say, Rider?”

Ezra gritted his teeth, but refused to speak.

“You’re probably wondering how I found you, all the way out here in the middle of nowhere,” the Grand Inquisitor said. He smiled at the scythe. “This is the culprit. I don’t know where you’ve been keeping it, or how its power has been held at bay like it clearly has, but for whatever reason it started calling out in the dark side a short time ago. I happened to hear its call and readied myself here. What good fortune that I did.”

The Grand Inquisitor gave a motion and the stormtroopers shoved him and Sabine down the ramp where they paused to wait for the Inquisitor. When he was out of the shuttle, he jerked the weapon into its correct shape and gave it a shallow test swing, the blade well-behaved and obedient. A smirk curled his lips as he gave it a more forceful swing. The air sang at the blade’s passage.

The Pau’an eyed Ezra as if in triumph before collapsing the blade down again and holding it at his side. Ezra stared in stunned disbelief. Even Sabine couldn’t hide her own surprise.

“Well, this certainly explains things,” the Grand Inquisitor mused as he approached Ezra, bending slightly at the waist until they were eye-to-eye. The smirk never failed or faltered. “It’s speaking to me, you know. Telling me all sorts of little secrets it knows. Interesting that your master uses a Sith weapon, one of his own making, and yet here he is training a young Jedi.” That smirk pulled wider, his yellow eyes cold and amused. “You have no idea how eager I am to learn the rest of the secrets this weapon has to tell me about your master. Such as his name. And the location of your little base.”

“It’ll only tell you lies,” Ezra spat, and the Grand Inquisitor lifted a brow.

“Is that so, Ezra Bridger?”

What fight Ezra had in his body slipped away and bottomed out, leaving him feeling disembodied and adrift.

“I had always thought it was unbelievably unlucky and convenient what happened eight years ago, with you and your parents. You remember, don’t you? When I came? When I cut them both down?” A cruel tone colored the Pau’an’s voice, and he did nothing to hide the pleasure he was taking in this. It radiated out from him in waves.

“You leave him alone!” Sabine barked, struggling against her captor, but the Grand Inquisitor only continued and Ezra was helpless to stop him.

“You know I was after you, don’t you? I suppose the Reaper did as well, which explains your escape. But … you know that their deaths are on your hands, correct? I’m sure you do. Tell me, Ezra,” the Grand Inquisitor said as he shifted so he was speaking softly beside Ezra’s ear. “Do you still hear your parents’ screams at night, when you sleep?”

Anger blazed in Ezra’s chest as he snarled and thrashed in his captor’s hold, and all the Grand Inquisitor did was laugh, loud and long before he told the stormtroopers to escort his ‘guests’ to the detention cells. There, he promised Ezra and Sabine, he’d continue their … conversation in more private quarters.

With the company of an interrogation droid, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we all were hoping things would calm down. Nope. We’ve still got a while yet to go, friends. I’d love to hear what you thought of this chapter, though. It was definitely a bit transitory and slow in comparison to the action of the last several chapters, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! If you’re trying to remember what an imploded star cluster is, it’s like the ‘maze’ in the Legends of the Lasat episode. A regular star just didn’t seem epic enough to destroy the scythe, but that always seemed pretty impressive to me.
> 
> Anyway, bet you’re wondering what’s going to happen next with everyone. You’re going to have to wait, because we’ve got the final Origins cluster on tap next. This time we’re going back to Gorse where a certain fallen Jedi met a certain brilliant Twi’lek pilot for the first time. Should be exciting, right?
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). Till next week!


	29. Origins - Gorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So … first thing … when I picked my pen name, I thought it was so obscure a character I’d never ever ever EVER use the character in any of my stories. EVER.
> 
> Past Oka makes a liar of future Oka constantly, it seems. And really. I write in the Rebels fandom. I should have seen this coming.
> 
> Anyway, for those of you who’ve read New Dawn, you know the character Okadiah Garson. For those of you who have not read New Dawn, when you meet him here in this chapter, it is not me trying to cleverly insert myself into the story. That is not what I’m doing. Okadiah Garson is a real character in Star Wars canon whose name I have borrowed and who I am referencing in this Origin cluster. Just … really wanted to make that clear before we begin. 
> 
> Now that that’s out of the way, I hope you enjoy and like the first part of this Origin cluster!

Kanan was only half-listening when Maz’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

“It’s probably nothing, but I’ve heard that someone is making quite the fuss on a Mid Rim planet called Gorse.”

It was only the sudden, unexpectedness of the planet’s name — said by Maz of all people — which broke Kanan’s control for a moment. His head twitched up, his long hair brushing along his neck as he gave the small pirate his full attention.

“Gorse?”

Maz’s eyes narrowed at Kanan, and that was all Kanan needed to remember where he was and who he was with. He waited innocently, the image of patient and blind. He was sure the pirate queen didn’t believe the act, but after a long, thick moment, Maz continued despite his uncharacteristic interest.

“Yes. Gorse, and its moon, Cynda. You’ve heard of them?”

“No, not really. Just sounded like the name of some scumbag I knew,” Kanan lied smoothly, playing it off. To his relief, it seemed Maz was willing to accept the answer. Maybe not as the right answer, but at least she wasn’t going to press. “What’s up with this planet?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” the old pirate replied as she reclined back on an arm to look at her bar, practically empty given the time of night. “But it seems likely it’s some whistle blower concerned with the state of the moon.”

“Whistle blower, huh?” he echoed, his interest in the news fading faster than starlines after exiting hyperspace. Whistle blowers did produce work sometimes, but it wasn’t the type of work he handled. That was the Empire’s job to deal with, not that they ever did anything about it except silence the problem. Not to mention, it was also Gorse they were talking about, and he was reluctant to go anywhere near there.

Maz rolled her eyes at him as if sensing his loss of interest.

“I wouldn’t bother telling you about this if I hadn’t heard about it from several different sources, several different times,” the old woman said, making her case. “And it is the only news I have, at the moment. That, and I feel as if there is something important about that planet, though I’m certainly not insisting you have your friend do anything about it.”

Kanan sighed as he rolled Maz’s words around in his mind. His gut instinct was not to go. It had been years since he’d last been on Gorse, and when he’d left, he’d done so with the intention of never coming back.

But over the years he’d been listening to Maz, he knew the Force often told her subtle things that it did not tell him. If she had the sense that Gorse was worth investigating, she was probably right.

Even if it made him uneasy.

“The people I talk to need better information than ‘whistle blower’ to be enticed to act,” Kanan replied as he swallowed a mouthful of his drink, relishing the burn as it made its way to his stomach. “I’ll have to go and check it out myself.”

He turned his head in Maz’s direction, and immediately her eyes narrowed with cool anger. Kanan forced the words out, though they threatened to lodge in his throat the entire way.

“Could you watch over Ezra until I get back?”

The thick silence which separated the end of his words from the beginning of hers held nothing but judgement and disappointment.

“And how long, pray tell, do you anticipate being gone this time?”

Shame nipped at Kanan’s heart as he looked down and did his best not to look guilty. He’d known this conversation was going to come up sometime, given his behavior over the last year. It might as well be now.

He couldn’t help but think it was fitting.

“It’s hard to say,” he muttered. “You said it yourself. There’s not much to go on with whatever’s happening on Gorse. It might take me a while to get to the bottom of the problem before I have enough to tell anyone anything.”

Maz was not pleased with his response. He could feel it in the way the Force tightened around the old woman, and he braced himself. He was about to get it.

“Kanan Jarrus, you have asked me to watch that boy more and more over the last year,” Maz pointed out firmly. Kanan frowned.

“Is Ezra a problem?”

“You know Ezra is not a problem,” Maz replied as she crossed her arms, lips pressed thin. “Ezra is a very smart boy, very polite, with a level head on his shoulders. Unlike you.”

“He gets it from his mother,” Kanan replied and Maz’s frown deepened in response.

“Clearly,” she said, the word measured and slow. “First you asked me to watch him for a week. Then a month. Then a few months.” Her old voice was sharp, and he was unsurprised when she got to the heart of the problem faster than it took him to blink. “If I didn’t know better, Kanan, I’d say you were distancing yourself from him. Are you planning on abandoning him?”

Kanan swallowed around the lump in his throat because she did know him better. And that, Kanan was sure, was why he suspected she’d gone right to the heart of things with the precision of a vibroscalpel. Maz was never one to beat around the bush, but hearing her say exactly what he was thinking, what he’d been planning for several months now, made it sound worse than it did in his mind.

“I only ask because I trust you and he likes you. There’s a lot he can learn from you. Things I can’t teach him,” Kanan replied, side-stepping the issue for the moment. “I have to check the information you gave me, and it’s just not safe for a ten-year-old to tag along.”

“You don’t have to check anything,” Maz corrected with a sniff. “What you do have to do is be a parent to that boy. As you said, Kanan, Ezra is ten years old. You should be there for him to teach him how to live in this galaxy, instead of forcing others to do it for you.”

Another wave of guilt and shame beat at Kanan. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, Maz. I ask.”

“Fair enough,” the old pirate queen replied as she raised her chin, and no matter how diminutive she was, it still felt as if she was looking down on him. “But that boy is your responsibility, Kanan Jarrus, and I can’t say I ever expected you to be the type of father who’d abandon their child.”

Kanan didn’t say anything, feeling smaller and smaller by the second. The truth was, he’d never thought he’d be the type either. He’d never intended on being the type, ever.

But his farsight visions were getting stronger. And every time he woke up on the verge of screaming, frantically checking on Ezra to ensure the boy was still safe and alive, his resolve to keep and train Ezra grew just a little weaker.

“I haven’t abandoned Ezra,” he finally said lamely, and he knew Maz was unconvinced. His statement had said nothing about the future, and as she waited for him to correct his mistake, he shamed himself with his silence.

“I will watch over the boy this one last time, and then no more,” Maz said with the firmness of a woman who has lived a very long time, and who was tired of the bantha fodder she had seen again and again. “I advise you to take the time you will have on this … mission of yours, and give careful thought as to your continued relationship with Ezra.”

A deep sigh rose out of Kanan.

“And if I don’t come to a conclusion that you like, Maz?”

“Then don’t bother stepping foot back in my cantina, boy,” she replied lowly. “I won’t bother caring about that potential I once saw in you. It’ll be clear enough to me that it’s been a waste of my attention.”

Once again, Kanan didn’t say anything. He supposed that he wasn’t surprised by Maz’s declaration, even if it stung a little. When he’d walked in tonight, he hadn’t realized it would be his final time doing so.

Kanan finished off his drink, attempting to relish it as his final good memory of this place, but as it went down it felt nothing but sour and repulsive. Sardonically, he supposed that was fair, given what he had to do now.

But if he wanted to avoid the outcome of his farsight visions, then this needed to happen. Even if he didn’t like it any better than Maz did.

“Ezra and Proxy should be by in a few days. I’ll send you a message when they’re on their way,” Kanan said as he pressed some credits onto the counter, but the old smuggler didn’t even give them the honor of a glance. As he pushed away, he said, “As always, thanks for the talk, Maz.”

Usually the small woman would follow after him, if only to give a few more pieces of her mind, but this time she did nothing except remain right where she was. A part of Kanan’s heart tightened at the resolute display, knowing that this was the final time he’d interact with her. They were leaving on uncomfortable terms, and though he wasn’t surprised it had come to this, deep down he’d never wanted it this way. Maz had always been there to give him advice, cuff his head when he was being foolish, or provide quiet companionship.

Now he was leaving it all behind.

Before he left, however, her voice cut through the air. “Think hard, Kanan Jarrus. You’ll have to live with your decisions, once you’ve made them.”

“Thanks, Maz,” was all he said in reply as he left the cantina, even as her ominous words sat heavy in his mind.

He didn’t look back.

The trip home to Lothal was a slow one, but Kanan had planned it out that way. He wanted it slow so he had time to think. Time to think alone, without Maz or Proxy or Ezra to color his thoughts and influence his actions any more than they already did. Besides, it didn’t sound like Gorse was on the verge of chaos so he didn’t feel bad about taking the time. Frankly he felt like he needed it.

After all this time, why Gorse? Of all the planets in the galaxy, why had Maz pointed to that one?

After Kasmir’s death, he’d put serious effort into his training. He’d spent that first year alone honing his Force skills, sharpening them for his own safety and security. After that, he’d switched lanes in his training. He knew how to protect himself, but how did he survive alone in the galaxy blind?

He knew how to get around ‘blind’ from his time on Kaller and from working with Kasmir, but he also knew he needed to master the act and do it around the miscreants of the galaxy. In the wake of the Clone Wars, many had been left disabled, ignored, and forgotten; too poor to afford better treatment or quality of life. It was exactly how he wanted the galaxy and the Empire to see him if he wanted to survive and work undetected.

And so, he’d spent the next year planet hopping to seedy places where it wasn’t uncommon to see disability or squalor left in the wake of the wars, or people who learned to deal with it there. If he was going to play blind, he needed to play blind believably, and that year had been essential.

It so happened that one of the planets he’d spent time on had been Gorse.

His time there had been a surprisingly good four months, all things considered. It had been rough too, but he’d learned some of his most important life lessons there — including an appreciation for alcohol, back when he’d been a heavier drinker. But what had made the time there good hadn’t been the lessons, or the booze.

It had been Okadiah Garson. The old man who’d taken him in and shown him how to manage in a cruel galaxy like theirs.

Just thinking about Okadiah and the possibility of seeing him again had Kanan running a hand through his hair restlessly as a hopeful flutter slipped through his chest. It had been so long, and it was likely that old man Oke wouldn’t remember him at all, if he was still even there. Kanan had changed a great deal in the time since he’d left. But if there was a man who’d been the closest thing to a father Kanan had ever had, it was Okadiah.

Which was why, once Kanan realized how much he’d come to care for the old man, he’d promptly moved on even if it had been the last thing he’d wanted to do.

He hadn’t wanted another death on his hands, and it was better that way. To leave and not look back, and though there had been a few tempting moments over the years to go visit the old miner, he’d decided against it because he couldn’t risk it.

Just like how he couldn’t risk Ezra now.

Kanan’s head ached from Maz, from Gorse, from the problems of Ezra, and the farsight visions plaguing him. Not for the first time in the last year did Kanan wonder just what he was doing.

And if he was doing the right thing, or simply about to make the worst mistake of his life.

* * *

 

Ezra’s brow furrowed as the boy stared Kanan down.

“Oh, come on, Kanan. Take me with you!”

Kanan grumbled at Ezra’s annoying insistence. Ever since he’d returned and told the boy that he’d be gone on mission for an indeterminate amount of time, and that Ezra and Proxy would be staying with Maz again while he was gone, Ezra had turned into a bur. No matter where Kanan went in the temple barracks, Ezra had followed. To his room, to the meditation room, to the library, to the springs. He even went as far as to wait outside the refresher while Kanan took care of his business. The boy hadn’t let Kanan out of his sight and had hassled him relentlessly about going on the mission with him.

After three years of dedicated training, Ezra was of the opinion that it was well past time he started going on field missions with Kanan. The boy had developed his connection to the Force, he had decent control over his Force presence, and he was becoming more adept with lightsaber forms and techniques. More often than not, Ezra would train against Proxy and hold the droid off for longer periods of time. To improve, the boy often dueled against many of the dead Jedi Masters Proxy maintained holoprojection templates for. Kanan had to admit, Ezra was getting good. Not amazing, not yet. But good.

Given the easy nature of the mission to Gorse, in a moment of weakness, Kanan had almost considered it. The threat there was minimal and the boy was growing as a Jedi. If Kanan was being honest with himself, Ezra deserved to take the Initiate Trials and earn the rank of Padawan, and this mission to Gorse was likely to turn up boring and barren. A good starter mission if there ever was one. He even wanted to take him, if only to watch the wonder and amazement he knew would creep into his ward’s eyes at being out and about.

But his farsight visions always stopped him, and resolutely he bullied himself to maintain his position. Besides, Kanan had been working on his own for years, even after he’d taken the boy on as his apprentice. On mission, Jedi or not, Ezra was just a kid. A liability.

Even as he thought this, a voice in his mind which sounded a lot like Master Billaba reminded him that he’d too once been a liability. That he’d learned through experience, as was the Jedi way. As Ezra should.

Kanan ignored the thought. Besides, traditionally only Jedi who’d achieved the rank of Padawan could be taken on missions. Ezra was not a Padawan. He was only Kanan’s apprentice, which essentially meant nothing.

Even if it probably should.

Kanan sighed as he dropped his bags on the  _Kasmiri_  and waited for Ezra to do the same. Proxy was already on board, plotting a course to a planet in a nearby system with a galactic spaceport he would use to make his way to Gorse. After they dropped him off, Proxy and Ezra would take the  _Kasmiri_  to Takodana from there.

That was, if they ever left, given the way Ezra was dragging his heels.

“No, Ezra, and that’s final.”

Ezra’s bags landed with a hard thump next to his own and the boy glared at Kanan.

“Then when, Master?”

The petulant tone that Ezra developed when he disagreed with Kanan was something Kanan was still having trouble weeding out of the boy. He looked at Ezra and lifted an eyebrow admonishingly, but Ezra stood his ground.

“When you’ve achieved the rank of Padawan,” he finally said, coaxing patience from himself and the Force alike. “Just like in Jedi tradition.”

Though Kanan had agreed to train Ezra in the ways of the Jedi, Kanan had tried to maintain some sort of separation between himself and the Jedi he’d once been. But Kanan found that the longer he played master to Ezra, the more he relied on his past experiences as a Jedi to guide him and influence his own thoughts and decisions.

It made matters worse given that the only aid he had in figuring out how to teach and raise a Jedi child were in this temple’s Jedi library and archives. Immersed as he was when he was here, he sometimes forgot that he was only pretending at this. That he shouldn’t even like this, playing Jedi Master to a Jedi Apprentice.

Not that it was going to matter here, soon. Kanan’s chest tightened at the thought.

Ezra’s hard glare continued to burn into him, even as Kanan attempted to ignore it by closing the ramp now that they were all here and ready to go. To distract himself, Kanan mentally swept over the gear he’d packed again, just to make sure he had everything he might need for this mission. It had been an uncomfortable decision, but he was leaving his scythe behind. It was much too big, and frankly would be overkill for such a minor mission. He wasn’t even taking his mask either. All he was bringing with him was a blaster, and two short blades which he’d use instead to funnel any anger he experienced into until he could come back and channel it into his scythe.

Not that he expected to need any of his weapons though. He was sure he’d get there and find out Maz had been right. That this was nothing more than a whistle blower eating away at his time. He’d be done and gone before he even knew it.

“So, when am I going to be tested for Padawan?” Ezra demanded as he sat in the copilot’s chair while Kanan took the pilot’s. “Am I ever going to be tested for Padawan?”

Ah, this again. It had been this non-stop for five months now, and Kanan was fed up. Pressed by guilt and stress, he abruptly turned to the boy.

“When I come back, I will give you one more test. If you pass that test, we will go to the temple so that you may be tested for the rank of Padawan.”

After the flood of words had ended, Kanan felt sick for the massive lie he’d just told, but Ezra wasn’t so sensitive in the Force yet to know that he had. Excitement and hope suddenly filled Ezra’s face, filling the Force with bright exuberance, and Kanan felt like scum. He’d just given Ezra false hope by encouraging this dream and belief that he might one day be a Jedi. That one day they might fight the Empire together as master and apprentice, symbols of light and goodness, ridding the galaxy of its evil.

What was worse was that Kanan wanted that too. Deep in his heart, he did.

But not at the price the Force was telling him he would have to pay.

Ezra leaned forward as if he couldn’t believe his luck. “You mean it, Kanan?”

Kanan looked out the viewport, turning his blind eyes away. For the moment, he was glad the boy couldn’t read him in the Force as easily as Ezra could be read. Glad Ezra would never know the depths of Kanan’s cowardice.

“Yeah. But that means you need to be ready when I come back,” Kanan continued to lie. “I don’t know how much time you’ll have, but be prepared. I suggest you work on the cadences of Forms II, III, and V. Proxy will help you, but just remember to—”

“—stay out of sight while I practice. I know, Master. It was one of the first things you drilled into me, remember?”

He did. After meditation, Kanan had trained Ezra in evasion and concealment tactics. If people were looking for Force users, he’d have to look like he wasn’t one at all. Although it sounded like simple advice, sometimes it wasn’t, and he’d put a great deal of emphasis on that part of Ezra’s training. Every time he left Ezra with Maz now, Ezra always came back to him improved. As far as he could tell, no one knew what the boy was doing — not even Maz — so Ezra must have been doing something right.

Not that Kanan would ever find out, now.

“Just … hone those. And your Force concealment, all right? And when I get back, you’ll be tested.”

“You promise?”

Kanan’s heart squeezed, and for a moment … he almost changed his mind. This was _Ezra_ , the boy he’d saved and promised to raise. This child loved him, just as much as he loved Ezra. He shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t right.

But it might save his life.

Kanan looked at his ward and knew he was unworthy of this boy’s trust, even as he lied to his face. “Yes, Ezra. I promise.”

That seemed to appease the boy for the time being, and even as the  _Kasmiri_  made for open space, he saw Ezra’s hands and arms twitching in micro-movements as he mentally practiced his lightsaber forms. And so it was with no complaint, and even a happy ‘good luck!’ from both Ezra and Proxy, that he left them alone on the  _Kasmiri_  while he boarded the first of many transports he’d take on his way to Gorse.

Within the sanctuary of his mind, he gave them both solemn goodbyes, even as his arms ached to draw the boy into an embrace. Breathe the scent of him in one last time. He hoped Ezra would one day forgive him, but if he’d been in Ezra’s shoes, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself. So instead, he hoped the Force would be with the boy for however long Ezra would need it. He tried not to feel too bad about what he was doing. He’d prepared Ezra as best he could. Hopefully it would be enough.

As sick as he felt about his decision, his mind was made up. After his mission on Gorse was concluded, he would head back to the temple on Lothal, take his things, and vanish before anyone knew any better.

It was better this way. He told himself constantly, over and over throughout the long hours on the way to Gorse, that this was what was best. After all, it was the only thing he could think of which would ensure Ezra’s life.

And with that in mind, he resolutely put the decision to rest, and instead focused on Gorse and the mission that probably wasn’t a mission at all.

* * *

 

In the eight years that Kanan Jarrus had been away from Gorse, he realized pretty much nothing had changed.

The place was still filled to the brim with drifters laboring on Cynda in the thorilide mining trade. The planet still smelled like a muddy, mucky, humid armpit, and already three people had attempted to mug him. Not that they were successful, but still. Oddly enough, it felt like a heartfelt welcome back and the nostalgia hit him hard, much as he didn’t like it.

Another thing which apparently hadn’t changed in eight years was the Asteroid Belt, the bar owned by Okadiah.

On the way to Gorse, he’d had plenty of time to plan not only what he’d do for his investigation, but also how he was going to play his part. Gorse was a seedy place where fights and muggings and theft were a normal part of everyday life. The thorilide mining industry ensured the type of people who lived and worked on the planet now were the rough-and-tumble types, the ones who worked, drank, and eventually moved on. For this mission, that’s what Kanan had to be. One of them, to blend in. A rowdy common laborer and traveler. Frankly, it was one of his favorite and more natural parts to play.

And thankfully he could pull it off, now that he had his holoprojector buds.

Two years ago, he’d had a mission which he’d had to look normal for to pull off. It had been a tough problem to work around because it wasn’t only his milk-white eyes which he’d had to conceal, but also the old lightsaber scar across his face as well.

It turned out that the joint work of Ezra — who had a surprising hand with engineering — and Proxy had the answer. Using the same technology which allowed Proxy to assume the form of anyone, his apprentice and droid had devised a discreet holoprojection which sat above his eyes and the skin around them. It was reactive and moved as he did while appearing flawless, even if it itched a bit. For the first time in an age, it had looked as if he had blue eyes again, and smooth skin on his face.

Not that he’d been able to see it himself.

But it had worked for that mission brilliantly, and it was what he would use for this mission now. He needed everyone to believe he could see so he had a good reason to stay on Gorse. Being blind on this planet was a rough deal — he knew from experience — and it would be near impossible to convince anyone to send a blind man up to the mines of Cynda if his investigation took him there. He needed people to believe he could see.

Now he wondered if his explanation for how he could see, should he meet Okadiah again, would take.

When he’d first come to Gorse so long ago, he’d played blind by actually being blind. He hadn’t used his Force sense at all, as tedious and difficult as that had been, and one of the few bits of kindness he’d received during that time had come from Okadiah. The old miner had taken Kanan in and taught him how to run the bar, even blind, and had let him learn how to be a fool and take care of himself while also keeping an eye on him. Kanan had learned a lot about people in Okadiah’s cantina, and he learned a lot about acting the part people expected of him here too. It brought back memories.

But he shouldn’t have come here. He hadn’t even planned too, yet somehow his feet had found their way to the Asteroid Belt, almost of their own volition. They’d found and followed old paths he’d once used and before he knew it he was at Okadiah’s, entering before the smarter part of him could interject.

With a steadying breath — and the undeniable surety he was doing something particularly foolish this time — Kanan joined the noise and chaos that sweltered inside.

He moved carefully, if carefully meant adopting similar movements like all the other tired, rowdy, brawling creatures who filled the cantina to its brim. Unable to stop himself, he turned his head this way and that, using the Force to sense where the old man was. If he was even still here.

And he found him almost the moment the old miner looked in his direction. Kanan blinked before realization slipped onto his face. To his surprise, Okadiah Garson did the same before a great smile bloomed wide on his old lips.

“Well, well. If it isn’t young Kanan Jarrus!”

Much as he struggled against it, a smile fought its way onto Kanan’s lips as the old man made his way over, his great smile growing even wider as he neared.

“Okadiah Garson,” Kanan replied as he clasped the man’s hand, surprise evident on his face and in his holoprojected eyes. “How did you know?”

“I’d know that gait anywhere, lad. Now stoop down and let me have a look at you. You certainly sprouted some, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Kanan replied as he let Okadiah run his hands over his shoulders and along his neck and chin, turning his face this way and that. The old miner had been very close to accidentally discovering the projection buds Kanan was wearing, but hadn’t appeared to notice them. He was too busy looking at Kanan’s eyes.

“You got your eyes fixed!” Okadiah exclaimed with a grin. “Bet it’s a shock to see this wrinkled old face. Have no idea how you know it was me when you walked in.”

“Your voice,” Kanan lied. “Still got some sharp ears on me.”

“Blue eyes,” the old minor mused as he continued his examination. “Were they blue before …?”

Kanan chuckled at the old man’s delicacy as if it was nothing. As if Kanan had been asked this question more than a few times and was pleased to display his new eyes, even if it was all an act.

“It’s nice to look in the mirror and see pretty blues staring back at me again,” Kanan admitted as he stood up, tall and proud. “Met this pretty doctor, and she was just so curious to see what I looked like with the blue instead of the white. Insisted on fixing me up.”

“And she did a damn good job,” Okadiah agreed with an approving nod as he let Kanan go long enough to latch onto his arm and drag him deeper into the bar. “Did you marry her?”

Kanan shook his head amiably. “Nah, didn’t work out.”

“Still traveling light, then?”

“Just like you taught me to,” Kanan agreed as a glass mug was placed before him, and he drank. It was poor quality beer, but it was also familiar beer. He amazed himself by draining half the glass before he spoke again. “I could make a career out of being a bachelor.”

“When it pays in beautiful women, who among us wouldn’t?”

Kanan grinned, a real one he felt all the way to the core of him. He’d missed Okadiah, more than he’d ever realized, it seemed. It was good to see him again, even if it still wasn’t really seeing him. The old man settled beside him, a mug in his own hand, pleasure at seeing Kanan again filling the Force with his honest happiness.

They spent the better part of the next hour simply catching up. Okadiah told him about the mines and his work with Moonglow, the mining company he worked for. Kanan told him the fabricated back story he’d had ready, and the lie came out smooth as silk. Okadiah made sure their mugs never ran empty, and though Kanan didn’t usually drink much — particularly since Ezra — to play the part of laborer and gunslinger he readily imbibed. But even though he was having a good time, this was a mission. He never went past a light, pleasing buzz.

“What are you doing here, lad? I can’t say I ever expected to see you here on Gorse again.”

“Thought it would be nice to visit,” Kanan replied with a shrug, and Okadiah snorted in response. Kanan just smiled. “I was passing through. Thought I’d come visit. Maybe stick around a while. Do some work while I’m waiting for the next big thing.”

“Work, huh?” Okadiah said, arching an eyebrow. “Well there’s no shortage of work here mining the thorilide. Tell me, lad. Can you fly, now that you got your eyes fixed?”

Kanan nodded, and again he was glad for the holoprojection Proxy and Ezra had helped him with, to give him believable eyes. There was no way anyone would believe him otherwise.

“I’m not too bad a pilot.”

“Well, if you’re planning on staying for a while, I think I can arrange a job at Moonglow. It’s nothing fancy, and you might die flying the baradium to Cynda, but it’s a job, and it’ll pay for the alcohol.”

“You know exactly how to sell it to a man,” Kanan said, lifting his glass to bump it against Okadiah’s waiting one. “I guess I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

The old man’s smile was nothing but pleased radiance, and after taking a drink from his glass he yelled to the rest of the bar, “Happy hour all night, on account of the return of one of Gorse’s prodigal sons!”

All around them the bar cheered, no one caring just who it was that had come back, just that the booze was cheaper than it had been and they were thirsty enough to be thankful. A brawl promptly erupted from the enthusiasm, and Kanan just smiled as he continued to drink, hesitantly thinking that it was nice to be back. Even if it was only going to be for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the first part of this cluster, and I’d love to know what you thought of it! Sorry, no Hera yet, but just wait. She’s coming up real soon.
> 
> As always, a great place to keep up with me and my stories is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/).


	30. Origins - Hera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, given the nature of this Origin cluster, parts of this chapter might feel a bit like quick summaries because they kind of are. Getting into the weeds of the novel would require me to rewrite the entire thing, and I am not doing that. So I’ve narrowed it down to essentials. For those who have read A New Dawn, what happens in this chapter is largely identical to what happened in the book. You’ll know the changes. 
> 
> For those of you who have not read A New Dawn … there are spoilers here, but I did my best to be as general and vague about as much of it as I could. If you choose to skip over this chapter, I understand. If you’d like me to tell you the important points instead, just message me (either here or on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/)) and I’d be happy to tell you so that spoilers for the novel are avoided.
> 
> Also, there’s death here. I’m sure some of you know what I mean.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy! I’m wanting to get the third part of this cluster out on Sunday, so keep an eye out!

The month Kanan spent on Gorse working for Moonglow had been … oddly therapeutic. Usually his time would be spent traveling, training himself, training Ezra, or on mission. Though this was a mission itself, technically, it hardly felt like it. In truth, the last month was almost boring in comparison. He piloted a freighter to and from Cynda every day, ferrying the explosive baradium the miners there needed, then at the end of the day it was off to Okadiah’s bar to drink and bartend and sleep on the old miner’s floor as he conducted his investigation. It should have been utterly mind-numbing compared to his active lifestyle, but it wasn’t. It was like a break. A weird vacation doing nothing special except trying not to blow himself up.

Frankly, he’d figured out who the whistle blower was within his first week piloting for Moonglow. Skelly, a red-haired human with injuries dating back to the Clone Wars and demolitions expert for Moonglow, was the irritating source, and he wasn’t so much whistle blower as he was conspiracy theorist. Skelly was sure of some great plot to destabilize Cynda with all the mining, and he was shameless about his ideas. And aggressive.

It appeared that it was only by Moonglow’s good graces the man had a job at all. If it had been Kanan’s decision, he wouldn’t have let someone so crackpot unstable work with explosives. But he guessed it was a good thing it wasn’t, because Moonglow needed people skilled in demolitions, and Skelly was an expert, terrifying as that was. His only high point — and that was pressing it — was that Skelly loved the moon more than Kanan thought he loved anything else.

Still, Skelly and his crazy ideas were nothing to get up in arms about, especially for the Reaper. Kanan should have jumped ship then. But even knowing the lead was a dud, Kanan hadn’t found it within himself to leave quite yet. He would soon, no doubt about it, but he’d decided some extended ‘leave’ on Gorse couldn’t hurt. Just to recharge his batteries for later, when he put on the Reaper’s mask again and got back to real work.

And if it also extended his separation from Ezra, along with his decision to give him up? Happy coincidence.

But even though he lingered on Gorse for an impromptu vacation, it hadn’t meant thoughts of Ezra didn’t swell through his mind. During the quiet flights to and from Cynda and its beauty every day, he always wondered how the boy was doing and if he was keeping up with his training. What Maz had him up to. If maybe he should call and check in, just … just to see.

Sometimes Kanan would wonder about it for so long that Okadiah would ask him what was on his mind, and he’d have to immediately lie and grin and quietly chide himself for letting his thoughts drift.

Unfortunately, the distance didn’t stop the visions from terrorizing his sleep either. It was the single hitch in the ‘vacation’. He wasn’t getting much sleep because every night he’d see Ezra, an older Ezra, in pain, screaming, dying, and it was all he could do not to cry out as he woke. Many of his nights were spent up on the roof of Okadiah’s, gazing at the brilliance of Cynda where it shown bright in his Force sight. He’d wait there for hours until the morning shift crawled out of bed so he could take everyone from the cantina to Moonglow, before flying the baradium.

Besides that hiccup, with Okadiah’s warm humor for company and the mindless flights to keep him occupied, the month was as relieving as a breath of fresh air.

Then an Imperial Star Destroyer filled the space above Gorse, and he found he didn’t feel as if he was on vacation anymore. His mind had ticked into gear as he’d studied it. The Empire was here for a reason, if it was showing up with that baby to patrol the sky, and suddenly the Reaper in him was very curious as to why it was there at all. Interested in … possibilities which might arise.

Perhaps it was a good thing he’d stayed after all.

* * *

 

By the end of the day, Kanan was sure he should have left the very moment he’d figured out a conspiracy theorist was why he’d come to Gorse in the first place. He should have left the very instant he found out Skelly was the headache people had kept complaining to Maz about. But no. He’d stayed — for  _vacation_  of all things — and what did he have to show for it?

Several run-ins with Imperials, and the certainty that not only was this Imperial interest in Cynda not his problem, but that he should go now. He should leave before the wrong people started asking where the guy who’d stood up to the Imperial Fixer — a cyborg named Count Vidian — saved Moonglow personnel from being crushed because of Skelly’s damned bombs, and who’d ultimately turned Skelly in for the Imperials to deal with, was.

He didn’t want to deal with Gorse and its mounting problems, and he needed to go, quick fast and in a hurry. Years of missions and finely honed instincts told him as much. He felt bad that he was vanishing on Okadiah again, but it was the life of the type of person he was playing anyway, and they all knew it. He was going to take off the very moment he had the opportunity.

Then he’d been stopped in his tracks when the most beautiful voice he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing in his life graced his ears.

That voice, he’d found out, had been attached to a Twi’lek woman. A lovely, slim, green Twi’lek who he hadn’t wasted a second on jumping to the defense of. He’d sensed the thugs coming streets away and he was still playing the part of charming gunslinger. He could make time to help a damsel about-to-be in distress. A final good act before he left Gorse behind.

It was only after the brawl which had ensued had ended, that he realized he’d painted her all wrong. This Twi’lek was no simpering damsel, and now he wished he’d let the lady have her fun instead of assuming she’d needed his help at all. For as beautiful as her voice was, she moved like a viper, strong and lithe and in complete control of her body. She’d taken down her opponents with deft skill, as if she liked to participate in street fights in her free time. It intrigued Kanan as much as her voice did. He’d have loved to watch whoever she was go at it again. Hell, if he stuck around long enough, he was sure he would get his chance. This was Gorse, after all.

But he’d needed to go, and she hadn’t stayed long after the fight anyway. Only long enough to retrieve her cloak and thank him — but not really — for his help before she’d left. Perhaps he was impressed. Perhaps he was even a little smitten with the display, but even though they would never see each other again, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d asked what her name was, before Gorse got greedy and concealed her away again. To his surprise, she’d responded.

Hera.

Kanan had smiled. A lovely name for a lovely woman, and now that he was familiar with her Force signature, he realized this wasn’t the first time he’d noticed her. He’d sensed her on Cynda earlier, when Count Vidian had been touring the shining mines. He didn’t know what she’d been up to — she’d been a passing thing in the periphery of his mind — but now that he knew Hera was the same person he’d noticed above, he was curious why she’d been there, spying on the Imperial Count. She didn’t work at Moonglow because there was no way he’d have missed her if she had, and it seemed clear enough by her manner and the way she held herself that she wasn’t one of Gorse’s illustrious residents either.

He’d watched her in the Force as Hera made her way smoothly through the streets, slipping here and there without so much as disrupting the dank, night air around her. She’d blended in with ease and confidence, a woman on a mission. A trained woman on mission, and he sensed from her in the Force a distinct distaste for the Empire.

Though he’d have to watch her longer to be sure, he suspected Hera was likely a member of the growing rebellion he’d heard rumors about at Maz’s lately.

He’d turned his attention away then. Beautiful and enticing as she was, a rebellion operative was nothing he wanted to get involved with, not that she’d noticed him much past the gunslinger during their very short exchange. A small, masculine part of him wasn’t all that happy about it, but the Reaper in him was very pleased. It wasn’t often he ran into another operative, but when he did he made sure they never found out the truth about him. She hadn’t even suspected him.

Curiosity had nipped at him though, wondering why someone like her was even here in this humid, damp discomfort of a planet, but he squashed it readily. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his problem. His job right now was getting off this rock, and he was happy to let it rest at that.

Before he could go, however, he’d needed to pick up the gear he’d brought with him. He’d enhanced the blades he’d brought every night after his farsight nightmares, and it wasn’t safe to leave them behind. That had meant heading back to the Asteroid Belt one last time.

Again, Kanan knew he should have left when he’d figured out Skelly was out of his mind. Okadiah, the old fool, had somehow managed to wrangled him into one more night bartending. And, soft as he was, after everything that had happened on Cynda with the Imperials earlier, he hadn’t been able to say no. Not when he was about to vanish again. This would be his final gift to Okadiah, then he was done.

But while he’d been wrangled, a Sullustan woman had entered the bar. His instincts had jacked up as he’d watched her enter every blind spot in the cantina, before she talked her way behind the bar so she could disable the surveillance transmitter hidden there.

Then she’d come. Hera. Beautiful, breathtaking, dangerous Hera. And she’d come to meet the Sullustan woman who’d just downed all the bugs in the bar.

At that point, even the Reaper in him had had its interest peaked. There was too much coincidence going on for him not to notice. What in the Force was going on? Reasonably, Kanan knew he shouldn’t get involved, he knew it, but — Force aside — there was something about this Twi’lek which drew him in, and made him want to know more. What was she doing here, tracking the Count? What did this Sullustan woman want with her in this mad, loud bar?

Since he was curious, he decided to spare a tiny bit of time to find out.

Turned out she hadn’t taken to the roguish charm of the gunslinger the second time any more than she had the first, nor was she impressed with him in the slightest. She was even actively trying to get rid of him, and he was about to cut her some slack and leave her alone if the Sullustan, Zaluna, hadn’t vouched for him for whatever reason. But she had, and because she had, Hera grudgingly let him in. Turned out she was a rebel, and she’d been investigating Vidian with plans to do little more than the sleuthing she was doing now.

Curiosity sated, Kanan was about to make some excuse to pull away, but then Skelly had come in and dragged stormtroopers with him. It was then that Kanan found he missed Ezra dearly, because the boy had never been this much of a problem in his life.

* * *

 

By the second day, it was a damned miracle Kanan hadn’t blown his cover due to Gorse’s growing madness. Unfortunately, through no desire or intention of his own, he’d been drawn deeper into this great mess and it seemed not even the Force was letting him out of this.

It had been a long time since he’d craved a drink due to agitation and stress, but by the time he’d led Hera, Zaluna, and that damned fool Skelly back to the Asteroid Belt, all he’d been able to think about was getting his hands on the strongest liquor Okadiah had in stock.

He should have left last night when Skelly almost got them all caught by the Imperials, but Kanan just had to be sweet to Hera. He’d agreed to take her with Okadiah and the other miners to Moonglow, and let her use his Moonglow ID to infiltrate the building where Vidian would be visiting.

The mess which had resulted was one for the books.

Moonglow was destroyed. The owner and her husband were both killed by Vidian, the company itself had suffered from a bombing — courtesy of Skelly — and it had been a wild race through the streets of Gorse to get Okadiah’s hoverbus, and then use it to outrun and then outfly Imperial TIE fighters.

It took a lot for him to keep his skills under wraps and do everything the way normal people did it, without the Force. But he managed. How, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he’d managed it somehow.

Kanan had to admit, though, that it might not have been possible without Hera. If there was one thing he’d learned today, it had been this: Hera was among the best pilots he’d ever met. Better than he was, and he was pretty good given his Force enhanced reflexes. She’d made Okadiah’s old hoverbus fly for the first time in decades, when he’d only trusted it to hover a meter or so from the ground when he’d driven it, and her aerial maneuvers had been inspired, like listening to a symphony.

All things considered, as far as compensation went, spending time with her wasn’t the worst he’d ever received. The more time he spent with her on this series of maddening and unwanted adventures, the more he was utterly fascinated with her. What else could she do? Every time he thought he had her figured out, she did something unexpected and surprised him like a never-ending puzzle, and there was no denying his attraction to her. Even blind as he was, he could see the way she shown in the Force, like a beacon drawing him in, and not for the first time did he ache for true vision.

What did she look like? He was able to distinguish she was green through his Force sight — which was a good thing because there had been a few times Ezra had tried to trick him into wearing ridiculously colored clothing on mission. The boy apparently thought it would improve the Reaper’s notoriety if he was dressed in the colors of the rainbow. Kanan had not agreed — but knowing a color was different from experiencing it. He wanted to experience the exact shade of her skin. He wanted to know the way her eyes looked, and if they changed colors based on her mood. He wanted to see if she could blush.

For all the trouble he’d had to go through, some of it for her — which hadn’t been very smart on his part in retrospect — he felt drawn to her.

But it ended tonight. No matter how much he might be interested in seeing where engaging her might lead him, he knew better. It was better if he only had himself to worry about. It limited the casualties he brought down on himself and those he cared about.

It was why he was leaving Okadiah behind again. It was why he was leaving Ezra, Proxy, and Maz.

It was better this way. He had to travel light, like Okadiah had told him to so long ago, if he wanted to outrun death and prevent it from taking those important to him. No one close. No relationships. He’d slipped up with Ezra, but he was fixing that now. No more.

This was how it had to be, and he wasn’t going to let an attractive acquaintance like Hera change his mind about it.

The others had gone upstairs to the room Kanan usually used to sleep in above the Asteroid Belt, and for the first time in probably longer than he could ever recall, the place was quiet. Given everything that had happened at Moonglow, on Cynda, and to the bus, the bar’s usual patrons were missing and it was just the four of them hiding out.

Alone for the time being, he slipped behind the bar to find that stiff drink, but while he was looking Okadiah walked into the bar, clearly tired after the day. His old eyes regarded Kanan quietly before he shook his head.

“Don’t bother with any of that garbage. Give me a minute to get the good stuff. We can drink out back. I hate drinking in here when it’s empty.”

Kanan considered telling the old man no, that he couldn’t waste the time and was leaving, but the idea of one last parting drink with his old friend made him pause. Okadiah had been good to him, more times than Kanan deserved. If Kanan was leaving the old miner forever, he wanted to at least leave on decent terms.

It was better than he was leaving Ezra on, anyway.

So, he slipped out into the ally. He wasn’t all too surprised it was empty and silent, as if Gorse was recovering as much as Kanan was after everything that had happened. But despite the oppressive humidity, it was quiet and almost comfortable.

“You’re leaving,” his old friend said once he stepped from the cantina. “I don’t blame you, after everything that’s happened. Probably wishing you’d left before all this nonsense started, hmm?”

“I can’t say that when I decided to stay, I did it hoping to deal with this Imperial craziness. You’re right,” agreed Kanan. Okadiah chuckled.

“I’m a little surprised you came back here at all, to tell you the truth. You travel light,” Okadiah said as he sat heavily next to Kanan, reaching out an arm to offer a bottle. It sloshed, half-full, and smelled very strong. Kanan took it with a grin he didn’t quite feel.

“Only the clothes on my back. I learned it from you, remember?”

Kanan took a swig, letting himself experience the burn of the alcohol with appreciation before he handed it back to the old man. Okadiah took a slow swallow before he looked up. Above them, framed by the alley walls, Cynda shown beautiful and luminous. The old man smiled sadly, his eyes darkening with memory.

“I did, didn’t I?” Okadiah mused. “You travel light, and death will never catch you.” Okadiah took another drink before passing it back. “You ever wonder if that’s a good thing, lad?”

“Escaping death?” Kanan asked as he studied the bottle. He wanted more, but with Imperials so close, he would be stupid to indulge much more. It would affect his performance, and that was unacceptable should he need to fight, no matter how stressed he was. He looked at his friend. “Who doesn’t want that?”

Okadiah chuckled an old man’s chuckle, dry and amused. “Who doesn’t indeed? But I suppose it’s not necessarily the escaping of death which I’m curious about, but the traveling light.” The old man tipped his head toward Kanan, and Kanan lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Something wrong with looking out for number one?”

“Maybe.” Okadiah smirked as he took the bottle back from Kanan for another round. “People come here to Gorse, and you see them come and go. They travel light. Light as they can because they know they can’t stay. They’ve got nowhere to go, and yet they know they can’t stay here either. It’s not in them to, and they will travel from planet to planet in this Rim or any other until they can’t do it anymore and die.”

Kanan stared at the old miner, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“Is that what you’re doing? What you’ve done?”

Okadiah shrugged.

“I traveled light when I was young. No wife and kids. No family or home. Once I stopped being young, I still traveled light. Traveled light until I got old and couldn’t travel anymore, and stopped here of all places.” Okadiah looked up at him as if he could look directly into Kanan’s soul. “I’m old, lad, and all traveling light did for me was give me this bar and a place to die.”

“You could always pick up again,” Kanan said to fill the hard silence. “Find another place. Keep moving. Death might never catch you then.”

Okadiah laughed at Kanan’s weak attempt at humor before giving him a great, wise smile. “Lad, I don’t want to outrun death anymore. Death can have me whenever it wants, I’ll be right here.”

Kanan was confused by the old miner’s statement, and against his better judgment, he reached for the bottle and Okadiah passed it knowingly before he continued.

“I’m old, Kanan. Old from a life spent never letting anyone or anything close. A life telling other poor souls that they should be living light too. And now I know death’ll come one of these days, and I can’t say I’ll be disappointed. I’ve got no family, and I’d hardly call these ruffians who drink my liquor and sleep on my floors friends. And one day when I’m gone, this bar will go to someone else, or it’ll rot here in the muck of Gorse and no one will know any better. No one will care. Going to another planet to die isn’t going to change any of it.”

Those old eyes regarded Kanan with a look he’d only ever experienced with Maz, one filled with ageless wisdom gained through tough experience. Kanan knew Okadiah was trying to impart something deep and raw to him, so long as he was wise enough to understand it.

“Kanan, travel light if you need to,” breathed the old miner. “But you came back, lad. I don’t know why you did, but I never expected you to. I didn’t think you were the type, when you left. But you did. And because you did, I’m not so sure traveling light is for you anymore.”

“I was just passing through,” Kanan said simply. “Then I decided to stay for the hell of it.”

“That’s true. But why’d you come back to see me?”

Kanan frowned as he took another drink because right now he needed it as he joined the old man in gazing at the permanent night sky. With the brilliant moon above, he let Okadiah’s question roll around his mind. Why had he come back? He hadn’t had to. He hadn’t even meant to. He could have gone anywhere else on Gorse, he could have avoided Okadiah entirely … but he hadn’t. Kanan had sought him out, against his better judgment. It hadn’t been a smart move, and he knew it … but he hadn’t been able to help it.

If only Okadiah understood the type of life he really led, he’d know that traveling light was the best thing Kanan could do for everyone. No one else would get hurt because of him. No one else would die. His time with Ezra … he couldn’t deny that every day he was worried something would happen to the boy, something because of him, and it was a reason why he’d been pushing Ezra off on Maz more and more. Why he was abandoning him. Kanan wasn’t good for anyone, and any relationships he kept were always in danger.

He had to travel light out of necessity, because as much as he’d prefer death come for him, it often took those he held close instead.

“I think I should get going,” Kanan finally muttered as he passed Okadiah the bottle before heaving himself up to his feet. “Shuttle off-world leaves soon, and I’ve got places to be.”

Okadiah nodded as if he knew the truth. “I’m sure you do.”

It was as good a note to leave off on as any, better than the note Kanan had left off on last time — which had been none at all. But before he’d taken a few steps away, Okadiah’s grizzled voice slipped through the air.

“Here.”

That was all the warning Kanan got before something small was sailing at his back, and before Kanan could reign in his reflexes, he’d already caught the object in a move a normal person shouldn’t have been able to do. One the gunslinger Kanan was pretending to be shouldn’t have been able to do.

He paused, his gaze locked on the old man, but Okadiah only looked up again at where Cynda hung huge and bright, as if he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary. Tightening his lips, Kanan slowly turned his attention down to what he’d caught in his hand, and he was surprised to find it was a crystal. A crystal from Cynda, which had been meticulously carved and polished into the shape of a bird in flight. A shining, crystal bird.

From the distinctive shape of it, he thought it might have been a blackbird.

“What’s this?” Kanan couldn’t help but ask as he turned it over and over in his fingers, feeling the gentle dips and edges created carefully by old hands.

“Nothing really,” Okadiah replied with a shrug. “Just something I picked up a while ago. Thought you might like it, since you came back and made my life a little heavier. A reminder, I suppose.”

Something tender tugged at Kanan’s heart. “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget this armpit of a planet, or its ridiculously beautiful moon,” Kanan said with an amused chuckle. “I know I won’t forget you.”

Okadiah snorted at him as if he were daft. “It’s not for the planet or the moon, lad. It’s not even for me.”

Kanan’s brow furrowed. “Then what’s it for?”

“To remember that sometimes, traveling light isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

With that, Okadiah pushed himself up and, with a final look at Kanan and a pat to the shoulder, the old miner entered the back door of his bar, and Kanan was left alone.

* * *

 

Kanan knew this day, the day he would finally abandon Gorse and Cynda and all their problems, would be terrible when the moon exploded. Or, at least, when a small bit of it had.

Skelly had known exactly what had happened, given it had been a part of the research he’d inadvertently given Count Vidian in his desire to save Cynda. The Count had decided to blow up the moon. But even as he told their small group what was happening, all Kanan could do was feel the ripples in the Force with growing dread.

The spot where the explosion had happened was where the former Moonglow personnel were supposed to be working right now. And Okadiah had been on shift in that very spot.

Dread flooded Kanan, and all he could think of was the worst.

Kanan was moving before he’d even realized he was moving, and he had the Moonglow freighter  _Expedient_  in the air before he even had a coherent plan ready. But as much as he wanted to take the ship and fly up to the moon that instant, with all the free debris now floating around Cynda, he needed someone better to pilot. His thoughts kept drifting toward his old friend, and Kanan could not guarantee he could make the flight this time, and do it without being killed by the detritus.

But he suspected Hera could.

He’d picked her, Skelly, and Zaluna up, and he was pleased to find Hera could indeed pilot through the hazardous space, though he hardly paid it any attention. His mind sat on Cynda as he focused on narrowing down exactly where Okadiah was. If he hurried, maybe he could save him. If he hurried, maybe death wouldn’t find his friend.

But this close, he could feel the weak Force presence of the miner like a flame about to go out.

The magnetic airlock on the moon had gone down in some areas and Kanan rushed to throw on a space suit, hardly noticing Hera was doing the same before he was out and running as if lead by a homing beacon. Behind him Hera followed, keeping up as best she could. He knew he was moving too fast, his actions less controlled and more acrobatic and forceful, but the closer he got to his dying friend, the less he cared about keeping up his ruffian gunslinger front. He had to get to Okadiah, and he didn’t care if he slipped out of character to save him.

The flame of Okadiah’s life in the Force flickered, and Kanan stopped caring completely.

“Kanan?” Hera called, her voice muffled by the suit, but Kanan ignored her as he dropped his guise and moved with deft efficiency to where the Moonglow personnel had been working before the explosion had gone off.

It was where he found Okadiah, pinned and dying.

He already had a breathing mask ready, and after he’d placed it on the old man he worked to remove the rubble crushing the miner. With the Force he shoved the worst of it off, and by the time Hera arrived, all that was left was to slide the miner free. He used his arms this time to lift what remained.

“Move him out from under when I lift this,” he told her, and in moments his friend was free, and Hera had shuffled away to give Kanan room. Quickly he checked the man over and knew with certainty that there was no saving him. He didn’t have much time left.

Once again, death had come, and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Lad,” Okadiah breathed, and Kanan’s attention instantly narrowed on his friend.

“Don’t, Oke. We’ll get you out of here and get you some help.”

“You know as well as I do that that’s not going to happen,” Okadiah huffed. “Death’s found me, and if you move me from this beautiful moon now before I die, I promise I will haunt your soul until it’s your turn to meet death.”

“You’d get so bored you’d leave well before that,” Kanan replied with fake humor as he searched the Force for anything he could do for his friend, but there was nothing. All he could do was be there for Okadiah, bear witness to his friend’s death, just as he did for all the others who’d been close to him. His heart ached though no tears lined his eyes. All he could do now for Okadiah was try to make his passing as comfortable as possible.

He decided to start with a bit of truth.

“I didn’t tell you earlier, but I’ve got a kid now,” Kanan confided in the old man, hoping it would ease Okadiah’s transition from life, knowing some good thing about the galaxy remained. “Kind of. I take care of him. He’s a good kid. A great kid.”

“Then what were you doing here, wasting your time with old fools like me?” Okadiah asked, his old eyes turning pointed on Kanan as if he’d just figured something out. The old miner grabbed at Kanan. “Don’t do something stupid, like let him go, Kanan! Don’t run away.”

Kanan almost choked at Okadiah’s words, because that’s exactly what he was doing. Running. Running away, like he always did. Grief and shame welled up within him, clamping on his heart, and suddenly he needed to ask. The question bubbled up out of his soul, whether he liked it or not.

“But if I don’t … Oke, if I don’t I’ll get him killed.”

Okadiah gave him a weak grin. One of those grins he always gave Kanan when he said something dense and needed to be led to reason. “But lad, how do you know?”

The question floored him, because … well, how did he know? More than once Jedi Masters at the Temple cautioned Initiates, Padawan, and even Knights that visions from the Force were difficult to interpret. They could mean anything, anything at all, and it was dangerous to read into them. To believe you could understand them.

And it was entirely possible he had been reading into them, but how could he not? When he had the visions, they were always the same. Ezra, several years older than he was now, writhing and screaming in pain as lightning and darkness swept over his body. There was agony in that nightmare, and the feeling of unrelenting evil permeated everything. It was horrifying.

But he didn’t know what any of it meant. He didn’t know the context in which it would happened, and he didn’t know what might happen after. He only saw that one terrible moment … and saw the worst because that was all he ever saw.

And faced with Okadiah’s question, he had to wonder if he was wrong. What if he’d been torturing himself with what could be, instead of preparing Ezra to either face, or entirely avoid that outcome? What if it happened because he abandoned Ezra? Again, his heart and mind were thrown into chaos, and it was made that much worse by Okadiah’s passing.

One thing rose above the chaos though. Okadiah was right. Kanan was running again, only this time he was running away from Ezra. Away from the boy when it had been the very last thing he’d wanted to do, and the horror which came with that realization threatened to eat him alive. He was running.

And whenever he ran, people died.

“Come closer,” Okadiah breathed and Kanan did, but Okadiah shook his head slightly and instead turned his gaze toward Hera. “I meant the pretty one.”

Kanan blinked, catching Hera’s gaze as they both shared their surprise. But Hera didn’t hesitate, and came forward to kneel solemnly beside Okadiah. The old man smiled at her.

“I know you’ve both met just recently, but … listen. Take it from this old man, this boy … he’s good to have around. Don’t let him slip off. He’s good at it, I’m warning you now. You make sure …” Okadiah’s voice softened so much even Kanan couldn’t make out the words, and his heart skittered and grew cold. “Think … he needs ….”

Kanan’s jaw clenched tightly as he felt the flame of his old friend’s Force signature flicker one final time before it went out. Okadiah’s last breath slipped away, his body relaxing into death as it did. Hera gave Kanan a gentle, sympathetic look.

“He’s gone.”

Kanan nodded quietly, his emotions stilling into numbness which cocooned him as he worked with Hera to move and bury Okadiah’s body under the shining rocks of Cynda. Once they’d boarded the  _Expedient_  again, he found the desire he’d had when he’d woken this morning to leave was gone. He wanted to stay now, and he had a good reason to.

Its name was Count Vidian. And the Imperial Count had just made the Reaper’s list.


	31. Origins - Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just like in the previous chapter, there are some general spoilers for A New Dawn. If you want to avoid them and skip to the Blackbird relevant parts, start at 'The rest of the trip down to Gorse was quiet.' Enjoy!

It was harder to be the gunslinger, now that the Reaper had a mark. Kanan tried though because he was a professional, even if those around him were not. It was easy to fool Skelly. Anyone could fool Skelly, and Zaluna was so concerned about whatever they were doing next and if they might die that she hardly took notice, even when noticing was the sort of thing she’d been doing all her life.

Kanan didn’t think he fooled Hera.

It couldn’t he helped. In their teamwork, it quickly showed that, talented as she was piloting and forming plans, he was a tactical expert and there was no hiding that. A lifetime spent tearing apart Imperial complexes and assassinating officers made infiltration and sabotage a particular specialty of his, and he knew it showed. He tried to tone it down, make his plans rougher and more amateurish to hide his skill, but he sensed in the Force that it wasn’t enough.

Hera suspected he was more than he let on, and the weight of her eyes on him, studying him, had grown in frequency.

A part of him thrilled at the attention. The Reaper in him despised it.

It had taken a great deal of self-control on his part not to kill Vidian when they’d knocked him out and sliced into the cyborg’s brain after they’d first cornered him. It had been hard not to end the count then, but the bigger picture required Vidian to survive a little longer. It irked him after what had happened to Okadiah to let the cyborg go, but it also meant the Reaper could come at another time and make the kill, to ruin the count and his reputation.

That was enticing.

And so, he’d played the gunslinger a little longer, and had sensed in the Force that his actions would bear fruit. It would just be a matter of getting back to Gorse, leaving, and then coming back fully armed as the Reaper.

They’d managed to escape Vidian’s Depo with only a gravely injured Skelly, but when they got to Gorse space again, the Star Destroyer had been waiting, and Vidian had followed in his ship, the  _Forager_.

With Vidian on the warpath and an entire planet and moon at risk, Kanan had agreed with Hera and Zaluna that Gorse needed to be warned about the impending disaster the cyborg was about to unleash. And so, they’d infiltrated the  _Forager_.

The message had been sent, but at the cost of Zaluna’s eyes and her consciousness. A fight with Vidian occurred which tested his patience more than Kanan cared to admit. This cyborg had made the last three days hell for him. He’d been the reason Okadiah had been killed, and why another friend now lay still and blind. Though Skelly wasn’t exactly a friend, Skelly had tried to fix his mistakes and now wasn’t long for this world either.

With Vidian before him, and so much suffering because of the Imperial, Kanan couldn’t keep the charade up anymore. His patience at playing the gunslinger was done.

Dropping his guise completely amidst the chaos which had erupted on the  _Forager_  in the wake of their battle, Kanan reached out in the Force and lifted his hand.

It was as if everything around him had only been waiting for his command, and instantly it all froze in midair. Count Vidian himself lay immobilized and trapped, and stoically Kanan withdrew his pair of Force strengthened knives he’d gathered before he’d last left Gorse. He neared the cyborg, his face firm and emotionless.

The Reaper had finally come. But this time, he wasn’t reaping just because it would put a noticeable dent in the Imperial chain, given that he was about to kill one of their best fixers. No, he came on behalf of everyone that Count Vidian had hurt. On behalf of everyone he’d killed.

There was no denying that revenge laced his actions, but Kanan didn’t care. He was ending this man.

Behind him he’d felt Hera freeze at the display, too stunned to do anything except watch. It was just as well. If she’d tried to stop him now, she’d have had to deal with the Reaper herself, and for her sake, he hoped she wouldn’t.

“Count Vidian,” Kanan said remorselessly, his voice calm as, with the Force, he reached into the cyborg’s cybernetics and destroyed, wrenched, and left the count’s vision and voice in shambles so he couldn’t call out or see what was about to happen. So Vidian could not send what he might have seen off to others and reveal Kanan’s secret. “Your end is now. Death has come for you.”

In his hands his knives heated and glowed, hot with intent. They were bloodthirsty and ready for the kill as much as he was. The air around the blades practically crackled with it. He raised one, and pulled the count’s head back, exposing his neck.

To his surprise, someone stopped him.

“No!” Skelly huffed in pain as he hobbled over and stared intently at Kanan, just as he was about to deliver the killing blow. “No … please, Kanan. Let me.”

Kanan eyed the dying demolitions expert with his bag of bombs, and knew in the Force what the man planned to do.

His hesitancy must have shown on his face, because Skelly began to plead desperately. “Please, after everything he’s done. After everything he’s done to _me_. I need to do this.”

Kanan’s jaw clinched and his hold in the Force tightened. He wanted Vidian’s kill. Badly. He wanted the Empire to know that the Reaper had done this. He wanted this for Okadiah … but it was clear Skelly was going to die soon. If he wanted to die here, to kill Vidian and save his beloved moon in the process, Kanan found he couldn’t say no.

With a heavy sigh, Kanan sheathed his knives and slammed Vidian to the ground with the Force, shackling him there with bits of metal to prevent the cyborg from running. Then he nodded to the red head.

“He’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Skelly wheezed, blood painting his teeth though his smile was real. “You’re a real pal. Now get going. I might wait something like five minutes, but I’m not sure I’ve got that long.”

“We’ll be gone,” Kanan promised as he carefully picked up Zaluna’s small body before turning to Hera, who was already waiting. Her eyes were wide, and he could practically see her thoughts as they flickered in the Force and across her face. Before she could say anything, he gave her the ghost of a roguish smile.

“Shh,” he said pointedly, taking her hand and pulling her away and toward an escape pod. “We’ve got to go. We don’t have much time.”

Slowly she seemed to have found her voice again. She nodded at him as she regained her composure.

“Right. This way.”

Much as Kanan was disappointed about giving Vidian’s life up to Skelly, he had to admit he was pleased with Hera’s startling self-control. Rebellion operative though she was, Hera was still a little rough around the edges and new to this sort of thing. But just watching her pull herself together, take control again, he had to admit she had a lot of potential. It was impressive.

Not a minute after they’d boarded a pod and ejected did the  _Forager_  explode, and with it both Vidian and Skelly’s lives flickered away.

The rest of the trip down to Gorse was quiet. He could practically feel the questions burning in Hera after everything she’d seen him do, and for a moment he considered killing her. She knew things about him now, things only Ezra knew. She knew his name. She knew he was a Force user. Hell, he’d even given enough clues to tip off this particularly smart woman as to who his alter ego was.

There was a reason why the Reaper was still a rumor; he was careful. He didn’t let anyone know or suspect, and if anyone did … they either died or they kept it to themselves like Maz did. But he couldn’t he certain what the Twi’lek would do. It would be better, safer, to end her now before she became a problem later. No one would know. Not even Zaluna, since she’d been blinded and unconscious throughout everything.

But even with the Reaper in him actively pointing out the right choice to make, Kanan found his hands busied themselves by dabbing bacta on Zaluna’s burned face, instead of reaching for his weapons. Minutes slipped past each other, each losing the potential for deadly action, and he let them. Let his thoughts on the matter slide away and fade.

After all, other things were taking their place. More pressing thoughts. More important ones.

Now that everything here on Gorse was over, all he found himself thinking about … was Ezra. He was done here, and he was damn-well going to move on the moment he could, but what would he do next? He could still follow his plans, leave Ezra and vanish. It was still a very plausible and appealing option.

But Okadiah … the old man had done and said a lot to make Kanan question his decision to abandon the boy, and the crystal bird in his pouch would be a constant reminder. The truth in his heart was that he didn’t want to give up Ezra. He wanted to keep the promise he’d made to the boy’s mother and train him to become something good. Something amazing and great. Something Kanan wasn’t. But the tension of keeping Ezra safe, and putting him at risk by letting him be what he should be — a Jedi who might one day be hunted down and killed — had been eating him up over the last year. The farsight vision had been driving him mad.

But he sensed in his heart that abandoning Ezra was the worst thing he could do and, despite his reason, his decision was made.

The pod landed on a roof, and immediately he was out the door, eager to vanish. But Hera was fast on her feet as if she’d expected this sort of behavior from him.

“You should stay,” she called out to him. “You’re more than what everyone thinks you are. There’s so much you can do. Don’t leave.”

Kanan found himself slowing to a pause, stopping though he hadn’t intended to as he looked over his shoulder at the Twi’lek. This beautiful, bold Twi’lek.

“And what would I do then, Hera, if I stayed?”

He felt her hope in the Force rise. Passion edged her voice as she spoke.

“You could become a part of something much bigger,” Hera replied, making her case. “There are people who could benefit from your abilities and skills. You could do so much more. There are people—”

He couldn’t let her continue. He cut her off.

“I have no desire to join your rebellion,” Kanan replied as he moved again, making his way across the rooftop. He grinned over his shoulder at her roguishly. “I work alone. I don’t think I’d make a good fit for your freedom fighters.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Hera said as she followed him again, her voice low and beautiful and sweeping into his ears as if to waltz there within his mind. As if it had every right to belong there. “I’ve seen you. You’re a Force user, you’re skilled, and you’re against the Empire which means—”

Kanan abruptly stopped and pivoted, coming almost nose-to-nose with Hera as what good spirits he’d had evaporated. She immediately fell silent at the sudden change, but she didn’t back down even when he stood so much taller than she did, and so much more imposing since she knew what he could do.

“I am not one of them,” Kanan said lowly as he looked down at Hera, but she still did not back down. “I might have been raised to be one of them, but I am not one now. Don’t even think it.”

“Jedi.”

Hera’s voice was soft but fearless as she lifted her chin at him daringly. He narrowed his eyes at her. It had been a long time since anyone had accused him of being a Jedi. Even Ezra didn’t. But this Twi’lek woman did, and just hearing the term, and hearing it applied to him, felt wrong and blasphemous.

Kanan shifted closer, just a little, but it was enough to put him deep into her personal space. This close, he could feel just a hint of worry within her at his proximity. Just a little since it was overwhelmed by her courage and mettle, but it was enough. He couldn’t help but smirk at her.

What pluck. He liked it.

Slowly he lifted a hand to her cheek and gently stroked it, and he was quietly pleased to find she hadn’t knocked his hand away instantly. That, in the Force, she wasn’t opposed and might not be opposed to a little more. It was tempting, very tempting, because Hera was beautiful and strong and bold.

Reluctantly, he let his fingers softly trace off her cheek as he gave her a low burning smile.

“Sorry darling. I’m no Jedi. Perhaps another time.”

And with that he Force leapt and sailed into the darkness of Gorse, letting its squalor and murk hide him away before her questing eyes could find him again.

* * *

 

It took Kanan longer to get off Gorse than he’d liked, now that his mind was made up. He wanted to get home to Lothal. He wanted to do what he did best, what he should do, and lingering on Gorse wasn’t helping his antsy nerves. But he needed to take the time to plant false trails, make it seem as if he’d never left for Gorse in the first place, just in case any Imperials decided they wanted to follow up on him.

But thankfully — finally — he made it off planet, and it was only once he was more than a few systems away and pretending to be blind again that he commed Maz.

He wasn’t sure she would answer, and he was more than a little surprised and relieved when she had. But the old pirate queen stood before him in the small holoprojection with a guarded look, her arms crossed.

“Kanan,” the holoprojection of Maz said warily. “I can honestly say that I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Come on, Maz. You know me,” he replied lightly, smiling at her with his usual grin. “Might take some time, but I always come back. Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to hear you.”

“I’m sure,” she replied unconvinced. “Why are you calling me Kanan?” There was no familiarity in her voice, no stern kindness or wise words. There was only a weary sort of regard in her voice, as if she was waiting for the cards to drop.

“I need you to tell Ezra and Proxy to go home. Please tell them that I’ll be a few days behind them, and that Proxy should run program thirty until I get there. They’ll know what to do.”

“Oh?” Maz questioned, cocking a brow. “And should I expect them to come back here in a week because you’ve failed to return?”

Kanan’s jovial tone gradually dropped, and he responded to her seriously. “Maz, what sort of parent would I be if I didn’t come back home?”

“A stupid one and a lousy one,” she replied as if the words had already been waiting at the tip of her tongue, even as she lifted her chin. “Now make sure you get home, wherever it is, and I will tell them what you have told me. The boy has been hassling me for days now about news from you. He’s very excited for you to return.”

“I’m sure he is,” Kanan replied softly, thinking of what he’d promised Ezra. Before he disconnected, he said, “Maz … thanks.”

The old woman just sniffed, but Kanan thought he saw her eyes soften a little. Maybe her lips twitched up reluctantly.

“Potential, Kanan.”

And with that, Maz ended the transmission and left Kanan alone to make his way home.

* * *

 

Hera settled into the pilot’s seat of the  _Ghost_  with a relieved sigh, grateful to be back in her proper place after the madness of the Gorse Conflict.

And that was nothing to say of that man, Kanan Jarrus.

From behind her, Chopper rolled in and chittered that they were ready to go whenever she was. That he’d been ready to go since they’d arrived, while also pointing out that they were only supposed to have been here for the better part of a day.

“I know, Chop, but I got hung up,” Hera replied as her hands flew across the flight panel before her. “If you haven’t noticed, the Empire’s around and the moon was partially destroyed?”

Scrambling the  _Ghost’s_  information, they exited the spaceport before heading into space and away from the humid world below. Chopper gurgled and Hera rolled her eyes.

“Well, then it’s a good thing it wasn’t you out there, wasn’t it? You’d have probably rusted in an hour anyway. Then where would we be?”

Locking in the coordinates, the blue and white flash of hyperspace filled the viewport, and Hera was more than pleased to see it. Anything to be away from Gorse and Cynda and everything that had happened there.

She just wished the distance would put Kanan out of her mind just as easily.

But it didn’t, and the entire time she worked on drafting the report of everything which had happened for her rebel contact, she wrestled with what she should say. If she should mention him or not. She knew she should, because he’d been an integral part of what had transpired behind her, but also because he’d been able to use the Force. A Jedi. A surviving Jedi! It didn’t matter what he said to the contrary. She may have been young when she’d seen her first Jedi, but she’d never forgotten the experience.

She’d had the same feeling then as she had around Kanan before he’d disappeared, and the galaxy could use hope like what the Jedi stood for. The growing rebellion could use it. It could be a game-changer. He could be a game-changer.

But then there was also the very likely possibility that he might also be the enigmatic assassin she’d been hearing so much about across the galaxy. And if he was ….

Thoughtlessly, she stroked her fingers along the spot Kanan had brushed her cheek before he’d left. It still tingled as if her skin refused to give the soft touch up, and she was struck again by how much she’d thought she’d known about him. How much she’d found she hadn’t had a clue. The man had been nothing more than a flirtatious laborer when she’d first seen him. There had been nothing special about him except a nosey disposition and some ballsy courage to stand up against the Empire which, admittedly, had impressed her.

But after his friend had died, she’d seen something else emerge, and she knew she wasn’t as good as she’d thought she was at reading those around her. Because the man she’d seen then? The man who’d helped bring down Vidian, who’d done impossible and incredible things? The man who’d been nothing but cool skill and razor-sharp blades?

Well, she couldn’t help but suspect that that gunslinger had actually been the one she’d heard called Death. The Reaper.

And, just as impossibly … he’d spared her.

Chopper waved a short metal arm, and Hera blinked, coming back to herself.

“Hmm?”

Those metal arms bent at the hinges to rest on his metal body before one raised and waggled at her as he gurgled his question.

“What?” Hera said. “No, nothing happened.”

The gurgles continued, pointing out her uncharacteristic wandering attention, and she smirked even as she hid the truth away deep within.

“I promise! I’ve just been running all over the place for the last few days.” To draw his attention away from her, she leaned forward in her seat. “Isn’t it time your servo’s were cleaned?”

Those metal arms withdrew inward as his top swiveled and he whooped at the idea, and Hera chuckled. But when her astromech left to get the tools she’d need for the cleaning, her smile dropped as she considered the … unique situation she was in. And what she should do about it.

She’d likely met the Reaper. She even had a name, alias or not, to call him by! Knowledge like that, it was dangerous. The Empire would kill for that sort of information. Bounty hunters too. Maybe even the growing rebellion.

But he’d been a pivotal piece in what had happened on Gorse, and giving the report without him in it was going to be difficult, if not impossible. But should she though? As an operative, she should divulge what she knew. That was the right thing to do. She knew that.

Memories of his strange blue eyes, his face as it changed from jovial to worried and pained at the old miner’s passing, to cool and emotionless taking down Vidian, then warm just before he vanished, they passed across her eyes and she was torn. All the stories about the Reaper made her think of nothing but a cold killer, and she had seen a hint of that.

But there had been something more there, something she’d missed the first time she’d looked, and whatever it was, it went deep. Giving up the information she knew about him, what she suspected at least … it felt decidedly like betrayal. And even if they’d only known each other a handful of days, the idea of giving something so personal up felt wrong. Like he’d given her a secret to protect, and she should.

Hera sighed as she stared out the viewport, studying the light of hyperspace before she made a decision.

Kanan, he’d let her go, even when she suspected she should be dead for what she knew about him. It seemed only fair that she kept his trust and repay the favor. Unless she absolutely needed to, she’d let what she knew about the enigmatic Reaper sit at the back of her mind, quiet but bright like a star.

And oddly enough, the decision settled her.

Chopper raced in, none-to-gently depositing the tools and rags needed for the cleaning in her lap. She rolled her eyes at him and let the question, mystery, and everything that was Kanan Jarrus, slip away from her mind. At least for the moment.

After all, she had a pushy droid on her hands to deal with right now. Hera reached for a screwdriver.

“All right, all right! Get over here then. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

* * *

 

“How’d the mission go?” Ezra asked the moment Kanan set foot on the ramp, and Kanan sighed at his young ward’s enthusiasm. Secretly, however, he was pleased and relieved to see it since he’d left thinking he’d never see it again. He missed it, even if he wouldn’t let on that he’d missed it.

“Good enough. I helped stop a moon from being destroyed.”

“You stopped a moon from being destroyed?” Ezra echoed, dismayed that he hadn’t been a part of the action. Kanan nodded as Ezra followed him inside. “Is that why it took you over a month?”

“It took a month to get to the heart of it,” Kanan said. “It took longer than I’d hoped, to be honest.”

Ezra didn’t look entirely convinced, but instead he began to look his master over. “Are you injured? Did you run into any trouble?”

Immediately Kanan’s mind swam with memories of the Twi’lek woman, Hera, and his old friend Okadiah. Count Vidian and mad Skelly. Kanan shook his head.

“Nope. Got away scotch free. Almost died a few times though. I did have to blow up a bunch of stuff, and that was fun.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ezra grumbled as they made their way inside the base. “Wish I could have been there to see. You know, since I can and all.”

Kanan snorted at Ezra’s pointed jab and clear bid for adventure, but instead of shrugging it off like he usually would, he studied the boy carefully. It was clear in the Force Ezra was trying to be patient. That the promise he’d made to Ezra was at the front of the boy’s mind, and it was only through some intense self-control that Ezra was holding himself back from the one thing he wanted to know most about.

If Kanan was going to keep his promise.

As much as Kanan enjoyed keeping the boy on the edge of his seat, he’d waited long enough. It was time.

“How many times did Proxy attack you?”

If Maz had passed on his message to Proxy, the droid should have run program thirty — a combat training program — with Ezra until Kanan returned. At random intervals, Proxy would assume the form of old Jedi Knights and attack Ezra with training modules and programs designed to test Ezra’s skill with the lightsaber.

Excitement filled the Force from the boy, though he was keeping it concealed on his face.

“In the last three days?” Ezra reflected as he rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Maybe seven times. One time Proxy even surprised me when he turned into you. I thought you were back.”

“How many times did he best you?”

Ezra sighed and crossed his arms as he looked away once they’d entered the main atrium of their home. “Three times. One of them was that holoprojection of you. The other two were Obi-Wan Kenobi and Depa Billaba.”

Kanan nodded even as his heart squeezed at the sound of his old master’s name. Distracting himself, he set his things down.

“Those are difficult simulations.” He paused as he regarded his young apprentice again before lifting a hand to one of the practice sabers, summoning it and igniting it. “It’s time for that test.”

He felt Ezra’s eyes widen in surprise at the abrupt change, the one he’d been hoping for for ages now, but didn’t let it hold him for long. The boy dropped low to avoid Kanan’s slash, and attempted to knock Kanan’s legs out from under him. Kanan jumped to avoid the strike, aiming for the boy again, but Ezra was gone. The boy rolled out of the way to put some distance between them so that he too could summon a training saber to his hand, raising it to guard.

“Good,” Kanan praised as he advanced, switching the grip on his saber in preparation.

On the way back from Gorse, he’d had to admit to himself that having help on the mission, even if it had been spontaneous and unlikely, had been … nice. The mission had gone better than he’d hoped with Hera’s aid and, though no one knew it, she’d gone a long way toward pleading Ezra’s case for hands-on experience despite the promise he’d made.

So Kanan would test the boy now, and if Ezra succeeded, tomorrow they would head to the temple proper for Ezra to be tested. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure they’d be able to get in, since he was no longer a Jedi himself, but for Ezra’s sake … he hoped it would let them in. And should the temple grant them entrance and Ezra succeeded the test which would await him, then Kanan would begin taking Ezra on missions with him.

Several hours later, after Ezra’s limbs had weakened and his muscles had failed him, Ezra submitted to Kanan in battle. But instead of telling the boy he needed to continue training, Kanan smiled and told Ezra to get some sleep. They’d go to the temple tomorrow.

They did and, to his surprise and immense relief, the temple opened for them. Ezra entered with confidence, as Kanan waited for him to complete his test, and he was proud when Ezra returned from his trials smiling and with a kyber crystal in hand, telling him that he’d even spoken to Master Yoda. It had surprised Kanan, made something hard lift and tighten in his chest, but he’d quickly let it go. He wasn’t surprised the Grandmaster had survived, and he was happy he’d spoken to Ezra. It meant Ezra was on his way to becoming a true Jedi.

Even if it reaffirmed Kanan’s awareness that he was not, since the Grandmaster had declined speaking to him.

A few weeks later Ezra had designed the strangest lightsaber, one that was not only bladed, but shot energy bolts as well. Kanan was impressed, and had to admit it was ingenious. Not long after that, they went on their first mission together.

It was a mess and a nightmare, but in the end they’d accomplished the mission objectives, and though Ezra needed a great deal more hands on training and experience, Kanan was proud beyond words. He had Hera to thank for that and, sometimes when he’d look up at the sky on Lothal, he wondered if their paths would cross again, someday.

It wasn’t likely, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

After all, it wasn’t every day he came across a woman like that. He hoped the Force would take care of such a beautiful and rare treasure.

And as the time passed, the farsight vision which had plagued him began to fade from his dreams and his mind, tormented him less at night as if hinting that he’d made the correct decision. Even so, Kanan vowed to train Ezra as best he could. He locked the vision away at the back of his mind, hoping it would rot and fade away in the darkness there, and never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the final part to the Gorse cluster! I hope you’ve enjoyed this and I'd love to know what you thought. There are no more Origins stories left, and it’s now a straight shot to the end. There are six more chapters until Blackbird is completed. The home stretch, my friends. This is the home stretch.
> 
> That being said, if there was ever a time to cheer me and this story on, it’s now. This story has been like running a marathon, and the end stretch feels exciting, daunting, and exhausting after over 200k words of work. It’s getting harder to put my fingers on the keyboard to write, and pick of my red pen to edit. So, I’m asking you to help me make it through these final six chapters, and to help me make them the best I can for you. 
> 
> Review. Let me know that you like this story and want me to get to the end. That will help me get my fingers back on the keyboard and pick up my red pen. I will finish this story regardless, but the support will help me go that extra mile I want to go, and would be greatly appreciated. For you reviewers who have been my champions and have reviewed, you’re amazing and I adore you. I’m hoping more of you will join their illustrious ranks :]
> 
> Now that that’s been said, it’s about time for Kanan to wake up and face what has happened. And he might have to enter the temple to do it.
> 
> You can follow me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/)  
> . Until next week!


	32. The Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go. The final leg of the story. Let’s get rolling, shall we? 
> 
> Also, pardon any vernacular problems which might come up with a certain someone later in this chapter. Enjoy!

When Kanan opened his eyes as the first flickers of consciousness fluttered at the edges of his mind, all he found was darkness and silence.

That awareness slowly broke through the fog of sleep, and there was no denying he felt … hollow. Burned out. As if something had clawed its way inside his body and mind when he hadn’t been looking, and left nothing but a broken husk behind. Heaviness clung to his body, heart, and soul like a weight.

It was then the memories began to flow within his mind like a growing trickle of water.

Flashes of understanding shocked the numb peace of his mind and constricted his throat. Snippets of terrible insight. Great swaths of emotion that were both his and not, which oscillated between vindictive glee and horrified despair. The scythe. His scythe. It had taken over him, enthralled him before he’d had any chance to stop it, and it had used him. Consumed him.

It had threatened to kill the others. And given time, he knew it would have succeeded.

Nausea manifested in his stomach, oily and cruel, and reflexively Kanan grasped for his Force sight. It stung him with its intensity, but he hardly cared. With a lurch, he threw his body over to the side and snatched the tiny bin for garbage across the room with the Force just in time to dry-heave into it. There was nothing in his stomach. He didn’t think the entity in his scythe had even considered the idea of food while it had rampaged.

Well. It had, once. With Ezra.

Kanan’s stomach heaved violently again and, as miserable and disgusted as he felt, he was also relieved that all that came up was bile instead of the fleshy meat of his apprentice’s heart.

A short, rough sob punched out of his chest as he trembled, tears lining his lashes as he recalled everything that monster had said with his own mouth. Everything it had done with his body. He could remember the heady fire of power as it had flowed through his blood, filling the Force with darkness. It had been intoxicating. Impossibly irresistible.

Most of all, he remembered his hopelessness — his helplessness — at not being able to fight back enough to stop it.

Nausea abating for the moment, Kanan set the bin down and quietly wept as his memories crashed over him again with the force of tidal waves. Thank the Force for Hera. For brilliant, brave, incredible Hera, who had done the one thing he’d tried to beg her to do when he’d had that tiny moment of control. To stop him. Kill him, if she had to.

And she had. Her, Ezra, the entire crew … they’d stopped him.

The relief overwhelmed the press of his memories, but it also made way for his shame to take its place. It clung to him, as if staining his very being. How could he ever face them again, after what he’d let happen? After everything the scythe had done to them? How could he face Ezra? In the fight with the Inquisitor, Kanan had lost it the very  _moment_  Ezra had been threatened. Terror and fear at losing the boy had ripped through what little control he’d been able to wrangle back for that brief amount of time. His anger had taken over and the scythe had secured a solid hold.

Kanan pressed his face into his hands, ignoring the burning sensation which flared in his right palm — a parting gift from the monster he’d created, he knew. There was no way he could face Ezra. Not after what he’d done.

The Force stirred, and suddenly Kanan realized he wasn’t alone.

Kanan jerked his head up and flailed for a weapon, any weapon, to protect himself with. But there was nothing. Nothing except his own panic. Nothing except his own fear, and whatever was happening in the Force. Clenching his eyes tight, he prepared for an attack. Hell, he half-yearned for it, to put him down and out of his misery. That much he deserved.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, working past his cowardice, he forced himself to peer into the Force and see what waited him. When he did, his eyes widened in surprise. His body went numb, and his thoughts vanished completely.

It was a Temple Guard. A Jedi Temple Guard, dressed in clean, lightweight armor and mask. Or … at least it was the impression of one, anyway.

It stared at him, its mask ornate and as unreadable as the figure’s body language. The guard stood motionless, only a few feet away, and did nothing except hold an unlit lightsaber in its palm by its side. The presence of it, here and now, was startling. He hadn’t seen it since the first day he and Ezra had entered the temple barracks.

Why was it here now?

As if responding to Kanan’s unspoken question, the Temple Guard moved. Though Kanan half-expected it to ignite its lightsaber and give him the end he was due, instead it only turned and motioned him forward. When Kanan didn’t move, still staring like the idiot he was, it moved toward the door before gesturing again, waiting for him to take the hint.

Kanan swallowed, unsure what he should do. The temple, like most Jedi temples, was tricky, and this Temple Guard was an extension of the temple itself. Should he follow? If he did, who knew what might happen? He might never return.

But he knew a summons when it was right before him, and declining … it wasn’t an option. His conscience wouldn’t let him stay where he was. The part of him that had once been a Jedi, it refused to stay down this time. Something had finally come to pass judgment on him, it seemed.

And he wasn’t craven enough not to stand and accept whatever verdict came his way.

Weary and beaten, Kanan bullied his body to stand and approach the Temple Guard like a man about to face his execution. The guard did nothing in response except slip through the door as if it wasn’t there, and Kanan took only a moment to throw on his boots before he followed. Fool that he was, he wasn’t stupid. He sensed in the Force where it was leading him.

When he caught sight of the Temple Guard next, Kanan wasn’t surprised to find it standing in front of the stone doorway it had once told him he could not enter. That stone doorway stood open now. The guard stood, waiting.

Understanding caused Kanan’s blind gaze to drop, but he nodded and began moving forward. Whatever punishment waited him lay inside the ancient Jedi temple itself. Just like he’d thought it would.

So be it.

Soon he was facing the open doorway. Beyond it, all he could perceive was darkness. Unfathomable darkness that not even his Force sight could define. Kanan cast a short glance at the Temple Guard, but it only waited for him to continue on and pass through. A sentry with nothing to give except entrance.

Kanan took a slow breath, well aware of the possibility he might not come back out.

“Kanan?”

The mechanical voice calling him was surprising and loud in his ears, and Kanan couldn’t bring himself to face Proxy, where the droid stood meters away.

“I … have to go into the temple,” Kanan told his droid softly. The darkness loomed before him like the maw of a beast. Hungry. Waiting. Waiting for him. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips. It didn’t help. “Don’t let Ezra come after me.”

“But Kanan—”

Kanan didn’t let himself listen to the rest of Proxy’s words. With a resolute stride, he plunged into the darkness. It consumed him.

The stone door thudded shut behind him, the sound final and ominous as it echoing onward into the silence, before even it too was gone.

* * *

 

Kanan walked in darkness.

Wherever he was in the temple, he didn’t know. If there was anything around him, he had no idea either. The very moment he passed through the temple door, the very moment it had closed behind him, it was as if his ability to see in the Force had been cut off, forcing him into the true blindness he rarely let himself experience. It was jarring, and the abrupt experience left him feeling as if he’d lost a valuable limb.

Kanan stumbled and the darkness stretched on and on before him. Behind him. Around him.

And he knew he could not go back.

Not that he wanted to. Not now, when the temple had drawn him in for whatever retribution it deemed fit for someone as shameful and fallen as him.

So Kanan moved on by touch and sound, slowly with one hand tracing a wall as the other stayed half-raised and ready. The Force hadn’t left him entirely — only his Force sight appeared to be hampered — but he only consulted it when he found a fork in his path, or a multi-exited juncture wherein he needed to pick a direction to continue.

Those were the only times he used the Force, and after a while he was almost relieved he lacked his usual sight. His use of the Force had allowed him to get into the mess he had. Kanan didn’t want to use it now, if he didn’t have to. Like burning his hand on metal, he was wary now, cautious of himself and the Force in a way he hadn’t been since Kasmir died.

Kanan wondered if he could go through the rest of his sorry life and never use the Force again, and be content. He wondered if he’d do just that, once he got out of the temple.

If he got out of the temple.

Time lost all meaning as he wandered the darkness and the ancient stone tunnels which made up the temple. Like this, they seemed endless and he might have been walking them for … minutes. Hours. Days. Hunger nipped at the pit of his gut, but he ignored it. Thirst chapped his lips, but there was nothing to do except press on.

Abruptly the tunnel dead-ended into a small, empty cavern, and when he turned back to find another way, Kanan found there was no entrance. No exit. Just unbroken stone walls surrounding him on all sides. A dead end, with no way out.

It seemed this was where it all ended for him.

Kanan sighed, heart heavy, before he reclined on his back in the center of the room, arms spread out beside him as he let gravity take his weight and hold him there upon the cold stone. He stared into the unending darkness, imagining what existed past his blind eyes. For all he knew, this cavern might be a literal tomb, and the dried bodies of former Jedi were now gazing upon him in their death, passing quiet judgement.

“Guess it’s as fitting a way to go as any,” he muttered to himself, his voice consumed by the ancient air around him. It felt as if his words would echo forever, while also never getting as far as his lips. Kanan let his body relax further into the stone. Personally, he thought a long, pain-filled death was more appropriate to this solitary darkness, but who was he to question the temple’s decision? He was nothing. No one. A fallen Jedi who’d been consumed by his anger and pain, and nothing more.

With a pang, Kanan wished he could have seen Ezra and the others just one more time. Told them how sorry he was for everything he’d done to them. For everything he’d let happen. But with him gone, they would be better off. He wouldn’t pull any of them down anymore, while they tried to raise him up from the dark pit that was his life. They’d leave him and the scythe here in the temple, forgotten as they should be. Ezra would go and do good things with the  _Ghost_  crew. With Hera.

Better than he ever had with him.

“Giving up now are you?”

Alarm careening through his body like lightning, Kanan was on his feet and in a defensive posture due more to a lifetime of conditioning than any real desire to protect himself. Still, now that he was up and on his feet, ears trained on the opaque space around him, he waited for the inevitable.

“Who’s there?” Kanan demanded, shifting his feet so his position was more stable, even when his world felt as if it balanced on thin ice. He shot what working Force sense he had out into the area around him, but when he was so inundated by the Force that gathered here in the temple, it hardly worked. All he perceived was emptiness. Darkness. He urged strength into his voice. “Hello?”

Shifting around so he could use his ears and body to sense for anything, he was momentarily caught off guard when, instead, he  _saw_  something.

Saw something with his eyes. Eyes that had stopped working years ago.

At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what the sensation overloading his attention was, just that it  _was_  overloading it. It held the strength of an attack. With his Force sight, he saw lines and angles and shapes and depth, and he knew colors and shades in a cerebral way.

But what was before him, that was a  _branch_. The bark lining it was  _brown_ , and the depth there gave way to shadows and gradients, and it hung in a pool of light which shouldn’t even exist in the stagnant dark of the temple. None of that compared to the small green figure sitting atop the branch holding a gnarled staff, however, gazing at him with something like wizened amusement.

It was Grandmaster Yoda. And all Kanan could get through his slow, broken mind, was that the small Jedi was  _green_.

What action lingering in his body slipped away as he blatantly stared at the first anything he’d been able to see — really see — since he was a boy that day on Kaller. Much as he tried to see the old Jedi Master as a whole, he kept getting caught up in the details. Green. Wrinkles. Pale, wispy hair. Shades of black and white and tan and gray which lingered between the folds of his old robe. And texture! It was everywhere and Kanan was hopelessly enthralled. He’d forgotten it was possible to actually  _see_  texture.

Sure, he’d always known in a distant way from the hazy memories of when he had still been able to see. But now he realized how … degraded those memories were. Like faded snap-shots which had lost much of their vibrancy and quality to the passage of time.

But now … now it was back, and it was  _painful_.

Despite the pain, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes or look away.

It was ages before Kanan realized that, in his study of Grandmaster Yoda, he’d all but settled scant feet in front of the small Jedi, kneeling like he had when he was still a boy, receiving instruction from this master. He couldn’t recall crossing the distance at all.

An old chuckle slipped into the air. “Surprised you seem.”

“I can see you, Master,” Kanan breathed in disbelief, and even like this he still couldn’t stop staring. “Am I … what’s—?”

A pale eyebrow lifted as old lips curled up at one side.

“Know you do not?”

Impossibly, Kanan looked away, down as he thought about how this might even be possible. It shouldn’t be. His eyes were truly blind. Useless. There was no way this could be possible, unless this was just an illusion. A dream.

But it didn’t feel like an illusion. Just like it didn’t feel like a dream. Then it struck him.

“The Force,” Kanan breathed, mentally reeling as he looked up at Master Yoda again.

“The Force,” Master Yoda agreed.

The Force was doing this. The Force was allowing him to see again. Sudden elation flooded his body. He could _see_. Like this, he could leave and he could see the stars again with his own eyes. See the brilliance of color and the majesty of the world as everyone else saw it. Like he remembered in what memories he had left.

Kanan’s heart stuttered. He could see _Ezra_. He could see his apprentice for the first time and  _see_  him. Him and everyone else!

And Hera.

But just as quickly as the thought of seeing them arose in his mind, the memories of what had happened came crashing down. The elation slipped away. Suddenly the thought of seeing them like this, full of vibrancy and color and texture and life … it felt nauseating. It was a gift he had not earned. No. Right now this sight felt like a punishment, a punishment that could instead be used to show him just how badly he’d hurt them.

Kanan clenched his eyes shut and covered them, seeking the comforting flood of darkness, and wished the color would be taken away.

“Pained you are,” Yoda said softly, the amused tone in his gravely old voice fading away. “A dark path you have been walking.”

Shame blazed through Kanan’s chest. He wanted to keep his eyes hidden away, to continue to block out the world like children do when they don’t want something to be true. But, coward though he was, he couldn’t bury his head in the dirt if he tried. And he was trying.

Agonized by sensation, he lifted his eyes at Grandmaster Yoda and drew back enough to see stoic features as Yoda patiently waited for Kanan to respond. But they weren’t completely stoic. There was a slight touch of concern, or compassion there, both of which Kanan didn’t deserve.

The truth spilled out as if compelled.

“I have,” Kanan whispered in agony, unable to look away. “Though it hadn’t been my intention. And now … now ….”

When Kanan couldn’t birth the words, Master Yoda prompted him. “And now?”

“And now I have hurt the ones I care about the most,” Kanan admitted, baring himself to the old Jedi though he had no right to since he hadn’t been a Jedi in years. “I thought if I could separate from my anger, it would go away. Or … it wouldn’t be as much of a problem. But Master, it’s only gotten worse.”

“Worse has it?”

Kanan nodded, his shame and guilt growing. “I’ve created something dark, when I only meant to avoid the darkness.”

Yoda hummed, and kneeling before his former Grandmaster as he was, he felt as if he was a youngling again. As if the man Kanan had become no longer existed, and in his place was just a horrible, guilty child.

When the Grandmaster said nothing, Kanan felt obligated to continue. “I knew that my anger would lead me to the dark side. I knew my emotions were strong. But Master, so much happened and when I lost control, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let go of the Force, so I thought that if I could use it to help me put my emotions somewhere else, somewhere outside myself, I could still—”

Kanan’s voice choked, and his lips trembled even as he gazed pleadingly at Yoda. The Jedi’s ancient gaze studied him quietly, his face unreadable.

“Thought you could remain in the light side of the Force you did.”

Kanan nodded. His throat felt too tight to trust.

“But abandoned the ways of the Jedi you did as well,” Master Yoda pointed out.

“I was angry, and I didn’t feel worthy,” Kanan argued lamely. “The galaxy changed, and to survive I couldn’t be a Jedi anymore. So, I wasn’t.”

“And Jedi you are not,” agreed Yoda. Kanan’s heart squeezed at the easy agreement, his throat painfully dry, but he nodded anyway because hadn’t he expected this? He’d already known he was no Jedi. After everything he’d done … he’d known that. What did it matter that Master Yoda had only confirmed it? “Much darkness you have allowed into your life, Kanan Jarrus.”

“I know, Master.”

“But much light you have also kept,” Yoda continued. “A Padawan, you have. Friends, you have. Dark though you’ve become, light you still crave.”

“And I am dragging them down with me,” Kanan whispered, tears lining his eyes as he thought of all the pain he’d caused everyone he’d ever loved and held dear. “It would be better to let them go. Give them up. It would keep them safe.”

“Safe believe you do?”

“Yes,” Kanan all but sobbed. “Everyone I care about dies around me. And if they’re still alive, I only cause them pain and suffering. No good comes from me.”

“But save the lives of those in need you still do,” commented Yoda as the small Jedi held his wooden staff in his hands. “Protected and raised a Padawan no less. Ezra Bridger?”

At Ezra’s name, Kanan’s heart ached with desire to see the boy, though he doubted he’d ever see him again.

“I’ve done everything I could to help him become a Jedi. To give him a life I couldn’t have. The life he wanted,” Kanan said. “I know that I had no right to do so since I’m not a Jedi, but Ezra Bridger is a force of good for the galaxy. And I hope … I hope he might one day become a symbol of peace. One I can never be.”

Surprise raced through Kanan as he heard the old Grandmaster chuckle at him. “Not a symbol are you? Tell me, Kanan Jarrus, what are you if a symbol you are not?”

Kanan snorted darkly to himself. “I’m the Reaper, Master. A bringer of death.” He looked away from Yoda. “Master, I am no symbol. I’m just … an executioner.”

“And see you this way your friends do?”

Kanan’s brow furrowed as he turned his gaze to Master Yoda, who looked at him calmly as he held his gnarled wooden staff.

“Maybe,” he couldn’t help but say, but Grandmaster Yoda only lifted a very old eyebrow, as if aware that Kanan wasn’t being entirely honest. Kanan frowned, relenting with a sigh. “No. I don’t think they do.”

“And why might that be?” Master Yoda asked, “What reasons drive you in your work?”

“Do they matter?” Kanan asked rhetorically, and Yoda regarded him patiently.

“When do they not?”

Feeling like a beached fish struggling in a world not meant for him, Kanan endeavored to respond.

“I never wanted to stop protecting people,” he breathed. “I wanted to keep fighting for what was good and what was right. But people … they’ve died for me, Master. People I cared about. Deeply. So I tried to make sure no one else would suffer because of me, and I attacked the thing which was attacking everyone else. I became the Reaper to help.”

“Became the Reaper you did, but for revenge as well.”

Kanan swallowed. “It’s part of the reason I’m no longer a Jedi. I know. I’ve done dark things.” He swallowed again, and it didn’t help. “I feel the dark side creeping closer, even now.”

“Yes,” agreed Yoda. “But the dark side doesn’t own you, Kanan Jarrus.” Yoda’s old eyes held him firm. “Not yet it does not.”

There was something in the manner Yoda spoke which broke through Kanan’s guilt and shame for the briefest of moments to pull at his curiosity. And his dread. As if Yoda knew something he did not. Something which had the potential to tip him down the path he couldn’t return from.

“Tell me of your dreams.”

Lightning and ice simultaneously gripped Kanan’s heart, and for an instant he couldn’t respond. His dreams? The farsight visions which had returned with intensity for the last couple of years to haunt him and drive him slowly insane again?

“I see Ezra,” he began. “It’s always Ezra.”

Like a whisper, something appeared in the air, manifesting like dust in the Force around them. Kanan watched, mesmerized, before his breath caught as he stared at the only other thing he’d seen since his childhood. At first it was formless. Shifting and unknowable, but then color and light began to shine within it, and before his eyes … he saw something become defined. A figure.

A figure he’d traced with his Force sight so often he knew who it was, even though he’d never physically seen him, himself.

“Ezra,” Kanan said sharply, his breath a mixture of awe and disbelief. Awe because that … that was  _Ezra_. That was the boy he’d trained and raised. That was the boy he cared so much about.

Greedily he studied him, attention snared. Tan skin. Black hair. Defiant blue eyes that made Kanan’s lips twitch up in a wobbly, desperate smile as if he was seeing the sun for the first time. Seeing Ezra in the Force, and seeing him like this with his own working sight … he didn’t know which meant more to him. Though he couldn’t see normally with his Force sight, often he saw Ezra in his totality, undistracted by specifics and able to give him complete attention.

But with real sight, he kept coming back to the shine of the boy’s dark hair, the exact hue of his blue eyes. The tiny, pale scar on his chin he’d received on mission once when they were escaping a smuggler’s ship. That’s … that’s what it looked like. That’s what he looked like.

Kanan’s chest hitched violently as he wiped away tears which threatened to blot out and ruin his returned vision. That was Ezra Bridger. The backs of Kanan’s eyes strained with the burn of tears that threatened to flood out in shameless rivers. _That was Ezra_.

“Your dream, Kanan Jarrus.”

Surprise ripped through Kanan at the sound of Grandmaster Yoda’s voice. He’d completely forgotten about the Jedi, with the vision of Ezra hanging before him. Though Kanan wanted to keep staring at his apprentice, soft though Yoda’s voice had been, there was an edge of command there too.

“I dream of Ezra,” Kanan began again, his voice rasped and clogged. “It’s always the same. He … he’s suffering. There’s pain. There’s darkness. He looks as if he’s been tortured.”

As he said this, the vision of Ezra hanging in the air before him began to move, take action, and what joy Kanan had found moments before turned into panic. Everything he’d seen in his visions, they were playing out before his eyes, searing themselves there.

In the dust of the Force projection, Ezra thrashed and screamed, though only silence met Kanan’s ears. The bright flash of electricity raced across Ezra’s body, visceral and real, and Kanan jolted and cried out as if that might stop what he was seeing. It didn’t matter that he’d seen this happen so many times before in his dreams already. It didn’t matter that this was nothing new. Seeing it like he was, Kanan might as well have been experiencing it for the first time.

He saw … everything. The dirt and sweat covering Ezra’s skin. The pain and defiant will in his eyes as he withstood the attack. The bleeding wound on his arm which had reopened where it had been bound. A wound that looked relatively new, as if it had been made by a sharp knife … or a nexu’s claw. The exact wound Ezra had received recently.

And then Kanan went numb, because suddenly … the vision extended. Grew longer and he saw more than he’d ever seen before. There were other figures there now. The first he saw was a girl. A girl in colorful armor bound and enraged, brown eyes fierce. With the same surety he’d had when he’d first seen Ezra, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this scuffed girl was Sabine.

The other figure in the projection made him grow cold. It was a dark figure with a pale face, grinning down at his apprentice with pleasure and malice. A Pau’an. The Grand Inquisitor.

And in his hand, Kanan’s scythe hung sharp and deadly.

“What?” Kanan breathed, stunned, but there wasn’t time to wait for an answer, not when the Force projection before him writhed and swelled. Suddenly he was seeing so many things, all at once. They danced before his eyes, swirling rapidly in visions of color and shape and half-formed suggestions that Kanan’s renewed sight had trouble keeping up. Figures were there. So were bright blazes of color which could only be blaster fire. Ezra. The Inquisitor. Imperials. Space. Ships. The flicker of a determined figure, green, beautiful, and undeniably Twi’lek.

“Hera?” Kanan gasped, his head jerking to the side to follow that one vision, but it was gone, already vanishing and replaced by so much he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It was overwhelming. Confusing. Too much. It was all too much!

Kanan slammed his eyes shut, covering them with his hands and darkness once again descended upon his senses. But although the matte black helped, he still saw it, all of it, in his mind. They whirled there, so much stimuli his brain now ached with the task of understanding what any of it meant. He fell to his knees because, at the very least, he’d gleaned one thing from this. One thing which radiated through the Force with certainty.

Ezra and Sabine were in danger, now or soon, he didn’t know. But regardless when it happened, he knew for certain that those kids would be center in a worst-case scenario. The Grand Inquisitor and his scythe.

There was nothing good about that. Only darkness.

“I need to go,” Kanan said abruptly, dropping his hands and opening his eyes. The Force projections had vanished and now only Master Yoda remained. The old Jedi frowned at Kanan, even as Kanan searched the walls desperately for the exit. “I need to go!”

“Your undoing your fear will be,” Master Yoda proclaimed softly as his hold on his staff tensed before he lifted it and pointed the end at Kanan. “As you are now you leave, the dark side will consume you.”

“Then what am I supposed to do, Master?” Kanan demanded, panic morphing into the bite of anger as all he could think of was Ezra in pain. Ezra and Sabine in danger. His scythe with the Grand Inquisitor and all the damage both could do together since he wasn’t there. “What am I supposed to do!”

“A question to consider, Kanan Jarrus,” Master Yoda said as he lowered his staff. “For if the answer find you cannot, here a tomb this temple will become.”

Master Yoda started to fade. Everything started to fade, and the panic which roared through Kanan now at this new, horrible situation heightened as the only person capable of giving him wisdom began to leave.

“Wait, Master Yoda—!”

But the Grandmaster was gone. The press of darkness fell upon him, taking his sight and what light he’d been able to see, away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Yoda’s always difficult for me to write because the way he speaks just never makes much sense to me, but I did my best. Poor Kanan (I’m starting to think maybe this is the unofficial title of this fic). He’s got so much baggage to deal with, and it’s dragging him down. But if he can pull his head out of his ass, just maybe he can make it through all of this. After all, the temple’s not done with him yet, and there are lessons he still has to learn. At least, he’ll have to learn them if he wants out.
> 
> I want to give a very special thank you to all of you wonderful people who reviewed and have cheered me on and lifted my spirits. Keep it up! We’re five chapters from the end, and there’s still a ton that has to happen. Help keep me motivated. I believe in you :]
> 
> As always, the best place to keep up with me and my stories is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/)!


	33. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on tight, my friends. Kanan’s in for a wild ride.

Kanan scrambled in the dark, the sharp edge of panic arching through him as he blinked and blinked and tried to see again, but couldn’t. Unending black shrouded everything, and threatened to morph the panic into cold terror.

“Master Yoda!” Kanan called, and he flinched when his voice echoed back to him cruelly, cacophonous, desperate, and disorienting. Vertigo swamped him, and he toppled to the ground with a heavy thud. Blunt pain shouted at him, but he couldn’t focus on it with the darkness pressing in every direction.

Seeing again with real vision … it was almost as if the last fifteen years of his life spent blind hadn’t happened. That his senses had been refreshed, and because they had, all his experience of being sightless had fled him as if snubbed by his betrayal. He was lost. Lost in the shapeless nothing around him.

And Ezra was in danger.

It was instinct — reflex more than anything — which caused Kanan to tug at his Force sight again, and when he did he found relief. Like a miracle, he could see again in the familiar way he’d grown to depend on over the years. Through the darkness, the outline of the room appeared. The oppressive black was beaten away, and the bite of terror lessened.

Encouraged, Kanan focused, trying to see past the walls, past everything to find the temple barracks and the way out, but his sight rebounded in his mind as if he was forcibly shoved back. All he could see was the room which contained him. Anything beyond was a mystery.

But where the entrance had been hidden from him when he’d become trapped in this room, another pathway now lay open and waiting. Without hesitating, Kanan plunged into it at a run.

It was disorientating being only able to see a few feet ahead and behind him with no idea where he was going. But he knew he needed to follow the path, because somewhere, somehow, it had to lead out. Ezra and Sabine needed him, and he had to get out now!

Amidst the panic, the rational part of him knew the best thing he could do right now was pause, calm down and find some peace. Access the blasted Force with a calmer mind, and allow it to help direct him where he needed to go. What he needed to do.

But now more than ever, peace was beyond his grasp. So much had happened. All he could think about was what the scythe had done. The threat of the Grand Inquisitor. Sabine. Ezra.

And he was stuck in this maze.

Kanan was sure he’d go insane, if he didn’t find his way out soon.

After running for what felt like ages, he knew he was getting nowhere. The tunnel dead-ended again, and this time when he turned around to backtrack, to find another way back, rock and stone transformed in the span of a moment.

He blinked, and he wasn’t in the temple anymore. Kanan found himself embedded deep in a forest.

The abrupt difference was jarring and Kanan jolted to a stop, stunned and surprised when his Force sensed expanded, as if freed. Tall trees swayed high above, the leaves whispering as they caught the wind. The air was moist and humid. Warm and alive, as opposed to the dead temple air he’d been surrounded by a second before.

Kanan smelled smoke and fire burning in the distance, mixing with the forest air, and that scent alone threw him back through the annals of his mind. With mounting dread, he knew exactly where he was.

Kaller.

“Look how far you’ve fallen, my young Padawan.”

The chaos in Kanan’s heart and mind bottomed out as if the ground had vanished. He staggered back gracelessly, almost tripping over himself as he traced the form of the woman with his Force sense. A woman Kanan hadn’t seen except in his grief-stricken nightmares, or when Proxy pulled on her shape.

Master Depa Billaba gazed at him with troubled eyes, eyes which ruined the overall serenity which usually sat on her face.

“Master,” Kanan breathed, his body going numb and causing his knees to almost buckle under his weight. Master Billaba shook her head at him, the faintest scent of Chalactan roses stretching out to him. She’d always smelled faintly of Chalactan roses, and the scent alone undid him in an instant. “Master!”

“I know our time together was short, but I believed I’d taught you better than this.” Master Billaba gazed at him, pained and disappointed. “Was I wrong, Caleb Dume?”

Kanan’s throat constricted relentlessly as he struggled with what to say. “Master—”

“I believed in you as well,” an old, wizened voice said quietly and Kanan jerked around to see a smaller form sitting placidly on a stump, wrinkled hands wrapped around the head of a cane. A familiar blindfold covered her eyes. “You were so bright, Caleb. I knew you were capable of so much, when we first met. Child, was I wrong too?”

“Rika,” Kanan whispered, his mind racing as he stared dumbfounded at both women from his past. Dead women from his past, and when he heard the faint shift of another behind him, the numbness protecting him shattered. Emotions he’d buried deep down years ago surged through him as he turned and saw the Kalleran who’d died in his arms.

“Come on, kid. This isn’t you,” Janus Kasmir said as he gestured to him before placing his hand on his hip. The Kalleran’s lips pulled into a frown. “I took you in, I helped you grow. You were my best friend, kid! Jedi or not, I knew there was something good in you. That despite all the kriffing bantha fodder you’d gone through, you were a survivor, like me.”

“I did survive!” Kanan barked out, his face an anguished grimace as he stared at his dead friend. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Kasmir’s frown deepened. “Kid, I wouldn’t call how you’ve been living your life, living.” Kasmir’s eyes dropped as he looked away from Kanan. “I guess we were all wrong, weren’t we?”

“No,” Kanan said, trying to get them to look at him again, to get any of them to look at him again, but they wouldn’t. Their eyes turned away from him, all possessing the same saddened expression. Kanan felt like he was falling. “No, that’s not true—”

“But isn’t it, lad?” a fourth and final voice questioned. “I told you traveling light wasn’t for you. And though, yes, you went back to your boy, you didn’t listen, did you? You’re still keeping everyone out, when all you want is to let them in.” Okadiah Garson sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Can’t you see that’s what’s dragging you down?”

“That, and your refusal to face the monsters you have created,” Master Billaba added. “Your fear breeds your anger, Caleb. I thought you that. And despite my lessons, you let your fear and your anger consume you.”

“I showed you that you could move on,” Rika said, the Miraluka’s once kind words now almost harsh to his ears. “I showed you that you could trust and believe again. I showed you that you could recover. But child, you’ve only grown worse and moved backward.”

Kanan shook his head and felt as if he was drowning. Drowning in the presence of the people he’d cherished and lost. Drowning in their saddened, disappointed, and true words.

“I taught you how to survive in the garbage heap of a galaxy we lived in,” Kasmir said, before his expression pinched with agonized anger. “I didn’t do that so you could turn around and become a cold-hearted killer, kid. You were better than that!”

“But seems we were wrong.” Okadiah sighed again. “All of us.”

Kanan flinched, again struggling to find words to give them, ones they deserved. But before he could find them, he cried out in dismay as all four of his ghosts abruptly burst into flames around him. Fire spread across their bodies, consuming them, and the sounds of their screams and wails of torment filled Kanan’s ears. They rang in them, horrifyingly harmonious, and Kanan felt frozen in place. The inferno blazed all around him now, leaping to the trees and the foliage, hot and stifling and threatening to catch everything alight. Himself included.

The sick thing was, this burning heat … he realized it was a familiar feeling. This was what it felt like when he handled his rage. Every single time, this was exactly what it felt like. This was what burned at the core of his scythe.

Despite the horror assaulting him in every direction possible, a spark of insight flared in the back of Kanan’s mind, and he latched onto it. It was the only thing he had that could keep him sane.

“No, this is an illusion,” Kanan wheezed as he stared at the figures in front of him, all screaming, all burning and dying, begging him to do something, to save him now since he hadn’t the first time. He staggered away, desperate and afraid when faced with the ghosts of his past. The ones he’d loved. The ones he hadn’t been able to save. “This isn’t real!”

Kanan forced himself to breathe. To focus. He wasn’t where he thought he was. This wasn’t Kaller! He was in a Jedi temple and it was testing him. For whatever reason, he was enduring some sort of trial and he had to calm down. He had to find his center, if he was going to get out of this. If he wanted this to stop.

But though he understood the situation with detached reason, his heart balked and suffered remorsefully. It trembled, and his panic began to mount again as he searched with his Force sight for escape.

“Let me out!” Kanan bellowed, his voice echoing through the false trees and the raging fire and the screaming and night, lost forever in the temple he knew lay beyond. “Let me out!”

“It’s better this way,” a young voice said, the sound somehow cutting through the maddening noise. “It’s better for everyone if you never leave. I know you know it’s true.”

The screaming ceased. The writhing bodies of his loved ones aflame all collapsed in tandem to the ground, and when Kanan looked again, like a blessing some strange peace had descended. There was only one fire, now, somberly consuming a single funeral pyre. The trees were whole again, their leaves swaying gently in the soft breeze. A quiet night embraced him like a balm.

Before the flames, standing alone with his head bowed, was a boy.

Gasping and shaking on his feet, still reeling from the living nightmare he’d just endured, Kanan regarded this new figure as if it might attack him at any moment. He fully expected it to, after what had happened, but it only stood there solemnly. Seconds passed and shifted into a minute, then into another, and still nothing happened.

Swallowing, Kanan forced his feet forward. As he did, he tried to keep in mind that this was still some trick of the temple. Whatever was going on, whatever he was about to see and experience, it was just the temple. It was testing him. That was all this was. He could get through this. For Ezra and Sabine’s sake, he had to get through this.

He tried not to think about what might happen, if he couldn’t.

Even with his weak pep-talk, his heart was still in shock after seeing every person he’d ever loved and failed come back from the dead to convict him as they had. And that was nothing to say of watching them burst into flame as if to die once again in the fires of his rage. Trick of the temple or not, it had felt real and he knew he was only standing upright by some great miracle.

Everything they’d told him echoed in his ears and he knew he was so close to breaking. It wouldn’t take much more, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself together. Whatever was next … he hoped it wouldn’t be worse than that.

But despite his worry, he had to find out who this boy was. In the Force, Kanan sensed this was the only way forward, and if he wanted to get out, he had to do this.

Even if it broke him.

On guard, he waited for the boy to do something, anything, but he still did nothing except gaze at the flames. His shoulders were slumped, and his posture was tired, but he stood as if it was all he could do. As if he had to. Like a sentry. Like the last person alive, watching what was left of his world burn away.

It was once Kanan was level with the boy, standing right beside him, that he saw who it was. Though it made his chest tighten, he wasn’t at all surprised, now that he was looking at him.

It was himself. It was Caleb Dume.

Though the boy shifted slightly — the only indication of acknowledgment Kanan received — Caleb said nothing. Though he knew it wouldn’t last, Kanan was more than content to do the same. The crackle of the fire was the only sound between him and Caleb as they watched together. Kanan didn’t know who was burning on the pyre. At this point, he half-expected to see himself there, if he looked hard enough.

Kanan didn’t want to look hard enough.

But the quiet that emerged between them in the wake of … everything he’d seen and experienced … here with a Force projection of his younger self, it was almost relieving. He felt some of his anxiety begin to ebb, as if lulled by the unexpected peace. Ease away. The bite of his past and the ghosts there had mellowed some. The panic to find and save Ezra and Sabine, it was still there too, but now that he was calming down, his reason was finally taking hold.

What had he been thinking, losing control of his emotions like he had, running around mad through a Jedi temple? This was a  _Jedi temple_. He knew better than this. If he wanted out … if he wanted to survive this trial, he’d have to start acting more like a Jedi again. Think. Remember that it was he who controlled his emotions, not the other way around.

Caleb finally spoke.

“I failed everyone,” this younger version of himself confessed listlessly. “I let them all down. I couldn’t save anyone.”

Kanan’s chest pinged at the words, and he didn’t know what to say because … he knew that. Those were the thoughts which hounded him at all hours of the day, and well into the night. Those were the exact thoughts he held tightly to when Ezra needed him, or when Hera and her crew depended on him. His reminder not to screw up again. His motto. His inner mantra.

His punishment.

“You’re still alive,” Kanan said quietly, telling Caleb what he always told himself when he pursued this line of thought. It felt like the right thing to do. “You haven’t stopped. Their sacrifices haven’t been in vain.”

“But I’m not the one who deserved to keep living,” Caleb hissed, another thought plucked right out of Kanan’s own mind. “All of them were worth more than me!”

Kanan voiced the next line of his self-made script, even as his words drifted hollow through the air. “That’s not true, Caleb.”

Caleb glared up at him bitterly. “You know that’s a lie.”

Kanan said nothing. It had always felt like a lie to him.

“Why was I the one that had to live?” Caleb demanded, his bitterness slipping through his gritted teeth. The boy’s hands clenched by his sides, and his shoulders trembled as the truth came out. “I didn’t deserve to. And everyone I’ve ever cared about has died because of me.”

Kanan could only listened. What could he say, when this younger version of himself was only admitting every secret truth he’d held in his heart?

“I tried,” Caleb continued. “I tried so hard to keep faith. To be a Jedi. To do my best. To be above my emotions; to control them, and not let them control me. To be what everyone needed me to be. To remain in the light side of the Force.”

“I now you did,” Kanan said and that, at least, was true.

“And you know how badly that worked out,” snarled Caleb, his anger igniting, and he turned his scarred face up to Kanan’s. “I screwed up! Everyone dies because of me.”

“You did your best,” Kanan tried again, heart sinking. “What more could you have done?”

In a strange, dissociative way, he found he was asking himself a good question. One he wasn’t sure he’d ever asked himself before. What more  _could_  Caleb have done, back then? Kanan knew Caleb had done the absolute best he could’ve. Tried everything that was possible, when he hadn’t been busy running away.

“More,” Caleb bit out ruthlessly.

“More what?” Kanan countered, hoping this younger version of him could provide an answer. A real answer, and not one meant only to hurt himself and antagonize his mind.

“More everything!” Caleb snapped in agitation. “Just more.”

And just like that, cool understanding swelled in Kanan, at odds with the fire which usually burned his soul. He shook his head as he stared at his younger self, reflecting on the past from the perspective of fifteen years worth of distance. Reflecting now, not from the hurt of a child, but from the experience of an adult.

Kanan’s chest squeezed as he began to see more clearly.

“Caleb,” Kanan said. “There wasn’t anything else you could do.”

“You’re wrong!” Caleb bared his teeth at Kanan, hackles raised like a wild animal threatened. “I was weak! I was pathetic and a coward! I ran, over and over, and I didn’t do enough. They should all have lived, instead of me! And then I did the worst thing a Jedi could do and let my emotions consume me!”

Despite the fury, tears were starting to gather in Caleb’s eyes, his face changing from rage to agony in the span of a moment. So fast it made Kanan ache.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Caleb said as tears streamed down his face. He looked imploringly at Kanan. “After everything that happened, the anger, I know I wasn’t supposed to feel it. I know I wasn’t supposed to feel the grief. That it all leads to the dark side. I didn’t want to, but I did, and I’m not _dark_!”

Kanan stared at his younger self, this vivid Force projection, and he realized he could feel Caleb’s suffering. His pain. It was right there within his own heart, right where it had always been, like a weight. Like a vice. Kanan sighed because he knew this pain. It was what he’d buried and ignored and allowed to fester like an infection. The agony of losing so much, so fast. Too fast, and unable to cope or understand how to deal with the loss.

Now though, years later, he found he could see it all for what it really was. See himself more for who he really was or, at least, who he’d been back then. He saw there hadn’t ever been any risk of falling to the dark side. The only risk had been in his own fear of the dark side. Of himself and the strength of his emotions. Emotions Jedi children, he’d argue now, were never properly trained to handle.

Back then, he’d been a scared child, alone in the galaxy, hunted and scarred in more ways than one. Age and wisdom gave him that insight now, but then he’d already known that. It was how he’d stopped Ezra from behaving the same way he had, after Ezra had lost his parents. Stopped him from turning into a terrified, rage-filled monster, like he was.

He’d forgiven Ezra for his anger and emotions, and had helped the boy accept it as a part of himself, a natural part he could learn to understand and control. To experience without fear, and learn to let go. Kanan gave the broken Jedi child before him a sad smile. How could he have been so understanding with Ezra, and yet so harsh with himself?

Slowly he knelt before the vision of Caleb Dume. Caleb sobbed, then flinched violently when Kanan placed a hand gently on his shoulder. When the boy didn’t do anything more than that, Kanan eased him into the circle of his arms.

“It’s all right to hurt. It’s all right to grieve. To feel.”

“No, it’s not!” Caleb insisted as he shook his head, even as he clung to Kanan as if he might fall apart. “The Order said—!”

“The Order is gone, Caleb,” Kanan said gently. “And you were a Padawan six months old. What did you know about the finer details of the Force? How to deal with the dark side, and what to do when you experience powerful emotions like anger and guilt and pain. Those were never lessons Jedi children learn at that stage. Of course they scared you when they grew stronger than you could handle.”

Kanan swallowed and pressed his face into Caleb’s neck and was devastated by how small his younger self felt against him, now that he was fully grown. Had he really been so small? How had these shoulders carried and endured so much?

His voice caught as he breathed his next words. “They scared me too.”

“But it was wrong!” Caleb exclaimed as he suddenly beat at Kanan’s back, and Kanan let him. “I tried to do what they taught me, but it wasn’t enough!”

“I know,” Kanan told him. And he did know. He’d spent the last fifteen years with that knowledge. “But there’s no right or wrong about emotions, Caleb. They just are. Good and bad. What you do with them though, that’s what matters.”

“But—!”

“There are no buts,” Kanan pressed. “We’ve made mistakes, and yes. There are consequences for those mistakes that we have to face. But Caleb, this needs to stop.  _We_  need to stop. Doing this, beating ourselves up about it, it’s only hurting the people we care about now.” Kanan’s throat tightened. “And they need us.”

Kanan clung to Caleb and he remembered. He remembered everything he’d pushed away and buried deep so he wouldn’t have to feel. So he could get up in the morning and go. Get up and do.

But most of all, he let himself feel. Feel what he’d been trying to avoid, and it was right there, all of it. The pain. The guilt. The sorrow. The grief. It was an incapacitating maelstrom, but instead of turning away from it, pretending it didn’t exist and trying to control it as he had, he let it roll through him. Embraced it because it was his. These emotions, they were as much a part of him as the Force was and, like it or not, for good or not, they’d helped make him into the person he was now.

It was terrifying to allow these emotions in when he’d spent so long keeping them out. But he bore through them. Endured as he finally let himself grieve for everything he’d lost. To feel what he should have felt all those years ago.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he whispered into Caleb’s neck. “I know you don’t want to believe it either, but I forgive you.” Kanan choked and he held Caleb tighter, grief overwhelming him as the words fell out of his mouth like an unstoppable torrent. “I’m sorry for punishing you for so long. I’m sorry for punishing myself, and making things so … so much worse.”

And uttering the words out loud, Kanan knew he meant it. For years, that’s all he’d been doing. Punishing himself. Punishing himself for not being better, stronger, than he had been. For not forgiving himself of the limitations of a child, Jedi or not.

Tears ran from his blind eyes down his cheeks and he trembled and sobbed as his hurt and regret roared over him. “I’m so sorry!”

And now it was _his_ turn to cling to Caleb, as Caleb had clung to him. The flood of emotions plowed through him, eviscerating him with their intensity, and he did nothing except allow them in and experienced them without judgment. Sadness. Pain. Yearning. Love. Fear. Regret. All the things he’d forced himself to ignore, he finally gave their due.

When the hold of his emotions finally abated, he found he was alone again, and the forest with its funeral pyre was gone. Kanan wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he found himself now curled on the ground, ancient stone scraping against his cheek. Blinking blearily, he slowly pushed himself upright, taking stock of himself and his emotions.

He felt … hollow. A different type of hollow than he’d felt in his life, let alone before entering the temple. Usually when he felt something like this, it was lined with shame and guilt. He’d feel empty … but maybe it wasn’t empty, so much as it was … compressed. Like there was no space left for anything except the emptiness.

An echo of that was still there in the corridors of his heart, but something else defined the hollowness he found in his soul now.

Catharsis.

Kanan took a shuddering breath and resisted the urge to beat himself up for feeling something so … relieving. The catharsis ached as if the hollowness in chest now relaxed for the first time after the strain of bearing the massive tumor of his congested emotions, now that it felt largely exhumed.

Kanan felt lighter, cleared out, even if he knew this new development did little to solve any of the problems which lay outside the temple. Or prevented them from returning.

Soft footsteps broke the ancient stillness surrounding Kanan, and he looked up to find Kasmir standing over him. No fire. No injuries. A small smile tugged at one side of the Kalleran’s lips. He offered a three-fingered hand and, without thinking, Kanan took it. With a tug, Kasmir pulled him up to his feet.

“Thanks,” Kanan said, his voice hoarse and thick, and the Kalleran smirked.

“Only doing what I’ve always done, kid. Pick you up and dust you off.”

Kanan gave Kasmir a weak grin in return. “Yeah, you’ve always been good at that.”

Kasmir’s smirk softened, and the familiar, teasing tone Kanan had missed was put to the side. Behind him, Kanan could see the others watching on with gentle smiles. Master Billaba. Rika. Okadiah.

“Kanan,” Kasmir said. “We never wanted you to cling to us after we died. We’re dead weight, and you’re letting us drag you down a path you can’t go down.”

Kasmir’s hand clasped Kanan’s shoulder firmly, and Kanan tried to swallow past the tight lump now blocking his throat. It didn’t work, and Kasmir gave him the faintest chuckle as if he knew, before his eyes saddened at the edges.

“Kanan. It’s time to let us go. We’re gone. What happened, it’s in the past now, kid. You need to look to the future. If you don’t …” Kasmir’s gruff voice slipped off for a moment before he took a breath and pressed his lips thin. “If you don’t, you’re as dead as we are. And kid, for the sake of your boy and that family you’re resisting, you can’t do that to yourself. I can’t tell you much, but you don’t have the time to be wasting on old ghosts like us. Your future, there are good things there. You’re still capable of good things.”

“But what if it happens again?” Kanan breathed, his core fear voiced at last. “What if I can’t save Ezra? Or Sabine, or any of the others?”

Kasmir shrugged. “If you don’t at least try, they’re dead anyway. And you’ll hate yourself more for that than anything else.”

“What must be, will be, Kanan Jarrus,” Master Billaba said with a pointed smile. “It will be as the Force wills it. Trust yourself and what you have learned. Trust the Force.”

Words of wisdom from his former master sank to the core of Kanan. They were … exactly what he’d needed to hear. Everything that had happened here in the temple, everything he’d experienced … it was all exactly what he’d needed.

Rika smiled at him proudly from where she held her cane, and Okadiah lifted a brow, that fatherly grin in place.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, lad?”

The hand on Kanan’s shoulder squeezed in support, before it fell away.

“Get going, kid.”

As if bubbling up from the very pit of his soul, hidden away like a forgotten treasure, a tiny smile slipped onto Kanan’s lips. He looked down, snorting softly at the Kalleran.

“Don’t call me kid.”

Kanan waited for a chuckle. For a retort. For … anything, but when Kanan looked up again … he was alone. No one was there in the dark. Just him. Just him and the dusty temple air drifting as if it had never been disturbed by anyone or anything except him. The Force swelled about his senses idly as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Nothing at all.

But the catharsis in his soul remained, and sad though he was — alone as he was — all that filled his heart now was gratitude and the warmth of unconditional love, which lingered there like a final parting gift. Bittersweet, but real.

Light appeared as his Force sense bloomed out like a missing limb, and he stared at it. A doorway appeared. A stone doorway, and beyond that, he saw, was the temple barracks.

The way out. Out to Ezra. Out to Hera and her crew. Out to all the problems he had to face the moment he stepped past that threshold.

Giving one last look around at the temple, the ghosts it hid and the lessons it had taught him, Kanan took a deep breath and left, hoping he was prepared for what would come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So … what did you think? I’m not going to lie, this might have been my favorite chapter to write the entire story (and that’s including the Thrawn chapter. I put so much effort into that one, I loved it to death). I’ve been getting teary-eyed just writing and editing it for days now, and I’m so happy to finally share it. That being said, I really hope you enjoyed it. Kanan was way past due for an emotional upheaval (especially if he wants to succeed in saving Ezra and Co.), and I’d love to know what you thought about it :]
> 
> This chapter, you’ll be pleased to know, had another part which I split off because I thought this one should stand on its own. Because I did that, guess what? Another chapter is inbound soon (I’m thinking Sunday)! After all, Kanan has to come out of the temple, and there are problems he has to deal with.
> 
> One in particular is green, and very pissed off at him right now. 
> 
> Finally, I’d like to thank [Springfieldbluebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springfieldbluebird/pseuds/Springfieldbluebird) for letting me use her idea for the Chalactan roses Kanan scents when he sees Depa. It’s a wonderful detail, and the story the detail comes from is absolutely lovely. I’m linking it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102575/chapters/18568489), though I'd caution you to read the tags first, in case it's not your kind of story.
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). Until Sunday :]


	34. Escape

Hera was in a panic, though she was doing her damnedest not to show it.

Ezra and Sabine. It had been too long. Over two days had passed since they’d left Lothal to get rid of the scythe. They should have been back by now. They should have reported in ages ago, and what was worse was that no matter what the droids did, they couldn’t make contact with them either. It was comm-silence, deep and impenetrable, and Hera could only guess as to where her Mandalorian and Kanan’s Jedi Apprentice were now. And if something bad had happened.

Much as she’d prefer the idea of the both of them galivanting off somewhere for fun, she knew better than to think that was the case. Sabine was too disciplined, and the mission was too important to Ezra. It made the silence that much more unsettling. The very idea of the kids out there with the scythe, and they still hadn’t reported in after so long made her shiver.

And of course, there was the growing problem of Kanan as well, and the fact that he’d vanished into the Jedi temple ages ago while no one had been looking, and before Proxy could stop him.

There was that too.

Again, the droids couldn’t pin him down in there either, and Hera still didn’t have the faintest idea on how that massive stone door had even opened in the first place. But according to Proxy, Kanan was in there, even if Hera had checked every room in the rest of the base, just in case.

That headache of a man had vanished, and she’d lost count how many times this week everything seemed to be falling apart around her. The only thing she’d been able to do to establish any form of control was send Zeb and Chopper out to Capital City. To see if they could find anything on Sabine and Ezra, in case the worst had happened. She, Proxy, and AP-5 would wait here for Kanan and the others in case — by some miracle she would scold them later for — they were just coming back late.

Hera sat on one of the worktables, comlink wrapped tight in her palm as she tried to ignore the persistent, writhing feeling of her emotions doing flips in her stomach. Scenarios ran through her head. What if something had happened to Sabine and Ezra? What if something was happening to Kanan, now? How would she find all of them like this? Should … maybe she should contact Fulcrum?

Sighing at herself, Hera took a deep breath to regain control of her thoughts. It was still too early for something like that. If anything, she needed to be patient and wait for Zeb’s report. Now wasn’t the time to jump the gun, not when she didn’t have any evidence that her fears were founded. She needed to wait. Then, if the Lasat had found anything, she’d pull something together.

With or without Kanan.

Hera pressed her fingers into her brow as the flips in her stomach returned, and she closing her eyes to ignore the ache in her mind and the dulled one at her shoulder. After two days of bacta treatment and rest, the injury was better than it had been, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wish for stronger painkillers. What she was using where meant to deal with low-grade irritants, like headaches or sprains. Of course, every little bit helped, but she wished they’d do more for her. But between what Proxy could find and what AP-5 had on supply, these were the best they had.

She tried not to complain. After all, AP-5 had mentioned their low medical supply to her, before everything had happened.

Thinking about the mess brought it back full circle. How had she gotten involved in all this madness? How had everything turned out like this? Months ago, when Fulcrum had given her this mission, she’d never have dreamed she’d be in the position she was now. This was only supposed to be a recruitment mission. That was it. Just convince the Reaper and Rider to join the rebellion. The end.

When had it turned into so much more? How had the entire mission changed into something … personal? Not only to her, but to her whole crew?

Memories of Gorse and Cynda, the strange man she’d let slip away, and all the curiosity which had taken root over the years about him curled around her thoughts and Hera pressed her fingers more firmly into her brow. Stupid questions. She knew the answers. She’d always known the answers.

Hera wondered if the biggest fool of them all, was her.

Chiding herself, she suddenly blinked when the quiet of the atrium … changed, and the change dominated Hera’s attention in an instant. She lifted her head, trying to figure out what the change was, and she realized it was a sound. Focusing, she tried to place it. Against the odds, she hoped it was the sound of thrusters; the familiar scream of a ship, a sound she could identify in a heartbeat even from within the temple barracks. But after a moment she knew it wasn’t that, and her heart sank, even as she continued to struggle identifying the sound.

Keeping still, she studied it in her mind. It … it almost sounded like stones moving. Stones scraping across other stones.

Or a massive stone door sliding across the stone floor.

Hope soaring high in her chest, Hera sprang to her feet as she dashed toward the bedroom hallway, blaster in her hand though she prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. That sound, it was growing stronger the closer she moved, and her heart raced in time with the slight niggle of worry at what she might find.

She rounded the corner, blaster raised, and there, stepping out of the massive stone doorway, was Kanan. He was dirty, and his hair was in a tangled mess about his shoulders, but when he looked at her, all she saw were tired, pale eyes. There was a touch of sorrow there. Weariness. The line of his shoulders was slumped as if weighed down with fatigue.

But it was Kanan. She knew it beyond a doubt. Her Kanan.

“Hera?”

Hera’s breath hitched in her chest, overwhelmed with relief, then anger. She holstered her blaster and dashed across the distance before, using her good hand, shoving his chest. To her surprise, Kanan stumbled, features astonished until his back collided with the wall behind him.

The careful control she’d been struggling to maintain all day shattered, and emotions roared through Hera. Her shoulders shook, her eyes burned, and her face felt hot, but now that she had Kanan exactly where she wanted him, her worries and her fears all streamed out in a heated snarl.

“How could you do that to me, Kanan?” Hera demanded, shoving him a second time. “You left  _again_  without saying a thing, and I didn’t know where you were or how to get you out of that damned temple if I needed you!”

“Hera—”

“Don’t!” Hera growled as her fingers clenched the front of his shirt, the tactile feel of it in her fist startlingly real. Kanan was here. He was really here.

And as relieved as that made her feel, it only heightened her anger.

“Don’t ‘Hera’ me, Kanan Jarrus!” she growled again. “I don’t know what you remember and what you don’t, but you’ve put everyone through hell over the last week, and then you vanish again?” Hera wanted to shake him, but the motion would only make her injury scream. She yelled instead. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Hera—”

“Everything’s a mess!” Hera shouted over him, still unwilling to let him have his say as the heat in her face rushed up her head to her crown and all the way down her lekku. Now that her anger had crested, the desperation and worry which fed into it began to make an appearance as well. Her worries fell out, unhindered. “You’ve been gone, and Sabine and Ezra haven’t reported back in, and they’re out there with that monster you created, trying to get rid of it!”

Kanan stilled as if frozen in place, and the grasp she now realized he had on her upper arms tightened painfully. But now that she had his full attention, she sunk both of her hands into his shirt and held him there, forcing his blind eyes to hold her own.

“And I’ve been _here_ , injured and useless and waiting for all of you to come back home!” Her voice cracked, and a jagged sob ripped from her chest as tears burned on her lashes. “And I had to shoot you. Do you have any idea what that did to me? _Damn you_ , Kanan. I thought I’d killed you! I thought we’d all lost you!”

The full force of the stress she’d accrued over the week finally overwhelmed her, the same stress she’d been working valiantly to hide from the others. The worry, the pain, the agony of so many dangerous ups and downs from everyone, including herself, they were racing out in a rush. All she could do now was slam her fists against Kanan’s chest as another sob punched its way out of her. Damn him! Damn this idiot man she cared so much about!

Strong arms slipped around her, preventing her from striking him again, and she thrashed in retaliation as Kanan clung to her. But it took a moment for her to realize that, this? This wasn’t restraint. This was a desperate embrace and, stunned, she realized Kanan was shaking. His hair brushed the top of her head as he pressed her brow into his neck. Kanan’s voice was thick when he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan whispered against her neck, right next to her lek. His voice wobbled, and his arms held her tighter, as if she was the only thing keeping him up. “I’m sorry, Hera.”

The anger that drove her abruptly fizzled out, and all the panic and all the fear she’d been silently harboring since the kids hadn’t reported back in and Kanan had gone on his little sojourn hit her.

Sagging against Kanan’s chest, tears seeped past her eyelids until they burned out in steady streams. She sobbed into Kanan’s chest, angry, hurt, afraid,  _relieved_ , and Kanan held her as she fell apart. Carefully he guided her so they were both sitting on the ground before he curled her against his body as if to hide her away.

“I’m sorry I left,” Kanan whispered again, voice tight. “I’m sorry I made you go through all this.”

Hera could only hold onto Kanan while she broke down. She wanted to hit him again. To beat him and force some Star-given sense into this infuriating man, but more than anything she just wanted him to stay. To open up and let her in and just get the fact that he was important to them — to all of them! He’d been doing so well for months, and she didn’t want him to slip back again. He couldn’t keep doing whatever it was that he was doing, and push them away.

But most of all, she was relieved. Kanan, he’d come back. He was here, and he wasn’t red eyed and cruel. He was himself, and she wanted to keep him right here — him, Ezra, and Proxy — and never let go.

When her sobs finally eased, and her emotions had cooled with the help of Kanan’s steadily beating heart at her cheek, she gave a great, shuddering sigh. Taking the sign, Kanan pulled away a little and gave her a weak smile that bordered on a grimace.

But it was real.

“Better?” he asked, and though the crying had helped, only one thing slipped out of Hera’s mouth in a horrible croak.

“You left  _again_ , Kanan.”

The weak smile fell away, and the grimace fully manifested. Kanan’s blind eyes grew pained.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Why?” Hera demanded, her anger threatening to rekindle again. “What made you think that was a good idea?”

Kanan’s lips pressed thin, even as he turned his eyes away. “I know it wasn’t a good idea. I know I should’ve at least told you before I went. But I was guilty about what had happened, and when the temple summoned me … I went.” His words quieted almost to nothing. “I wanted to go. I couldn’t face any of you.”

Hera stared, not because of the questions that were burning to be asked — the temple had summoned him? What did that even mean? — but because he’d been honest about it. He’d opened up all on his own, and she hadn’t had to play delicate games or pull teeth to do it. Was this really Kanan?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because his lips pulled up again, even if his eyes looked tight in spite of it.

“Before you ask, yeah. I promise it’s really me. I know it’s hard to believe, but … that’s why I left Hera. And I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. You and everyone else.”

“What happened while you were in there?” Hera breathed, baffled and struggling to keep up. “Is … do I need to be worried?”

This earned her a soft chuckle, though it was also edged with that strange pained quality he now seemed to carry. Kanan’s hand traced up over her cheek, and when she didn’t push him away, it traced over her lek as if he was trying to settle himself as he found his words.

“No. At least … I don’t think so. I saw some things,” Kanan replied, eyes reflecting something Hera couldn’t place. “Talked to some people. It … it straightened me out a bit.”

Hera’s eyes widened, another wave of disbelief crashing through her mind as her back straightened. “There are people in the temple?”

Kanan’s chuckle again was strained, but it sounded real. “Not … not exactly. It’s a Jedi temple. They’re tricky. You can see things there, sometimes. I … I saw a lot of things.”

Curious now — because what could Kanan have possibly seen that would cause a change like this — Hera asked, “What did you see?”

A wobbly smile pulled onto Kanan’s lips. “Enough. And I promise I’ll tell you about it later, but … you said Ezra and Sabine left.” Kanan’s smile fell as he proceeded slowly, seriousness seeping into his voice. “That they left with my scythe.”

Hera eyed him warily, curiosity fleeing for the moment, but nodded. “Yes. They left to get rid of it, but they haven’t been in contact since they left.” She swallowed, but forced the words out. “Kanan, they’ve missed their check-in. I’ve sent Zeb and Chopper out to see what they could find, but we don’t know where they are.”

Kanan’s hands tightened again from where they’d relaxed, the muscles in his body tensing. His frown deepened and his skin paled. She was about to ask what he was thinking when they were interrupted by the sound of her comlink.

“Hera? Hera, come in.”

Speak of the devil.

Both she and Kanan stared at Hera’s comlink where Zeb’s voice had come through. Her throat tightened. There was an urgency to the Lasat’s voice that was turning her insides to ice. She didn’t want to answer the comlink.

With mechanical movements, she made her hands move.

“Zeb?” Hera acknowledged. “What is it?”

“Nothing good,” Zeb said. “It’s what we thought. They’ve been captured by the Empire.”

Kanan stiffened beside her and her fingers went numb as her mind raced. They’d been captured. Questions roared through her mind. When had they been captured? Where were they? Who’d captured them?

What about the scythe?

She was so caught up in her thoughts she almost missed Zeb’s next words.

“You need to get out of there,” the Lasat said urgently. “Imperials are headed your way right now! I don’t know how they found out about the base, but they know where it is and they’re coming right for you. You need to go!”

Hera’s brain felt like it was being left behind by the world. Ezra and Sabine had been captured. The scythe was out there in the galaxy somewhere, likely in the Empire’s hands, and now the Empire was coming  _here_?

Were they ever going to catch a break?

“Hera?” Zeb demanded when she didn’t respond, and to her surprise, it was Kanan who replied back.

“You’re sure, Zeb?” Kanan said. “Imperials are coming here right now?”

Silence permeated the comlink before Zeb’s gruff voice came through again. “Kanan?”

“Not now, Zeb,” Kanan urged as he climbed to his knees, then his feet, before offering a hand to Hera to pull her up too. “Are they coming?”

“Yeah, they’re coming,” Zeb affirmed. “You don’t have long. TIEs left not long ago. They might be there any minute.”

Kanan cursed and Hera swallowed, mind finally clicking into gear. Throwing on her mantle as leader, she pulled the comlink from Kanan’s fingers and finally regained some control.

“All right. This is what we’re going to do.” Just saying the words made her feel steadier, more like herself and less like the mess she’d been only moments before. She cast a glance at Kanan, to see how he would respond. “If you’re right and this base has been compromised, we need to all leave and get off Lothal now. Me, Kanan, and the droids will take the  _Ghost_  and the  _Kasmiri_  and make for space. You meet us up there. Then we’ll leave and figure out what we’ll do next.”

“No, I’ll meet you there,” Zeb said. “I’m almost there anyway.”

“Did you find out where Ezra and Sabine were taken?” Kanan questioned hastily.

“No,” Zeb replied. “Just that they were taken, but I really don’t think now’s the time for that.”

The sound of mechanical footsteps abruptly filled the space near where she and Kanan stood, and Proxy appeared. Though it was obvious the droid was surprised to see Kanan, instead of addressing him the holodroid gestured anxiously.

“There are three Imperial TIEs and a Lambda shuttle inbound on a direct path here.”

Both Hera and Kanan cursed at the same time. Kanan ran a hand rapidly through his hair before his bearing straightened. His lips pressed into a determined line and he addressed Proxy with the firmness of a battle-hardened warrior.

“Initiate self-destruct procedures. We’re leaving.”

Again, Proxy seemed surprised, but reacted immediately. “Yes, Kanan.”

As the droid hurried off, Kanan turned to Hera. “We don’t have long. Where’s Rosie?”

“She’s outside,” Hera said, remembering the nexu for the first time since Kanan’s return. “We thought it would be better if she was out there, instead of in here while both you and Ezra were gone. She’s sedated enough to keep her calm.”

“Good. I’ll take her once I get to the  _Kasmiri_.” Kanan put a hand on her shoulder. “Get to the  _Ghost_. I need to get a few things before we leave, but Proxy and I will be right on your tail.”

The very idea of letting this vanishing man out of her sight again was repulsive, but there wasn’t time to argue. Not with Imperials on the way.

She just had to trust that Kanan would keep his word.

So she nodded, and as Kanan dashed down the hall and out of sight, she turned and took up the comlink again as she ran. “Be ready, you two. I get the feeling we’re going to have a bit of trouble getting away.”

“Just waiting on you, Hera,” Zeb grunted, and in the background, she could hear her astromech warble loudly. She thumbed her comlink again, this time to a different channel.

“AP-5, I need you to get the  _Ghost_  up and running right now. Imperials are on the way and we need to make this quick.”

The protocol droid responded immediately. “Yes, Captain.”

As she raced through the atrium, she caught sight of Proxy at the command console, metal fingers moving in a blur before he turned and chased after her.

“Where’s Kanan?” the droid asked, perhaps just as worried as she was about letting him out of sight.

“He said he needed to pick something up before we left. He’ll be on his way.”

At least, she hoped he would be.

The hesitancy to linger showed in the droid’s motions, and Hera shook her head. “No, Proxy. You need to get the  _Kasmiri_  ready to leave so he can take off once he’s done.”

Yellow photoreceptors flashed and the holodroid’s actions smoothed out, adopting her reason over his concern.

“Of course.”

Lifting a small flashlight, Hera and Proxy ran through the darkened tunnel leading out, and all the while small reverberations began shaking the ground. Ominous cracking sounds filled the narrow passage and urged her faster. Behind her, to her relief, she heard the sharp advancement of footsteps, and a swing of her flashlight showed Kanan striding fast some distance behind.

Though he’d said he’d be after her, a small part of her chest relaxed at the sight of him, dire as the situation was turning out to be.

Kanan hadn’t vanished again. Not yet, anyway.

The light was almost blinding when she burst out of the tunnel, but after months of practice Hera had already shielded her eyes from the light of the sun with a hand as she ran for the  _Ghost_. Proxy peeled off for the  _Kasmiri_. 

She was passing Rosie — where the nexu was sunning herself lazily some distance from the entrance — by the time Kanan emerged from the tunnel himself. The metal rod holding Rosie’s wrangling cable leash flew away. The nexu rolled onto her belly, but didn’t move despite her sudden freedom.

“Rosie!” Kanan shouted to the nexu. Slowly Rosie lifted her massive head and watched him. She bared her teeth at Kanan, and for a moment Hera was worried Rosie wouldn’t listen. That instead she might attack, even sedated as she was. Kanan hardly seemed to care. “Come on, you big Loth-cat! We’ve got to go now!”

Whether it was something in Kanan’s voice, or the Force which did it, the nexu stopped posturing and instead stumbled up to standing before taking a wobbly step forward. When she didn’t fall over, she took a few more steps with growing confidence before trotting as quickly as she could to the  _Kasmiri_.

That was the last Hera saw of them before she raised the  _Ghost’s_  ramp and made for the cockpit. When she slid into the pilot’s seat she was pleased to see her baby was awake and ready for her. AP-5 sat in the copilot’s seat, metal fingers working through his set of start-up commands, and in an instant, the  _Ghost_  was in the air, the  _Kasmiri_  not far behind.

And just ahead of them were the Imperials. Radiant bolts of blaster fire were already incoming.

“Climb!” Kanan barked into the comm as the  _Kasmiri_  turned and began to rise. “Hera, you need to clear the area! The base is going to blow any second now.”

Hera didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash of speed, the  _Ghost_  responded to her commands. Her shoulder protested the actions, but right now that was the least of her worries. Besides, the flood of adrenaline in her blood was making sure any pain she _did_ feel was dulled, if not completely forgotten for the time being. Dodging blaster fire and getting away were all that occupied her mind. A prickle of sweat suddenly lined her spine. Go time.

The  _Kasmiri_  was firing back, and she smiled when more blaster fire joined the fray. The  _Phantom_  appeared on her sensors, coming out to flank the Imperials and managing to shoot down a TIE before the rest could respond.

Then the ground exploded.

Hera had to admit that when Kanan did something, he did it thoroughly, because when he’d said the place was about to blow, it did. This was no minor implosion of the base compound. This was an obliteration. As if Kanan had been intent on destroying it in its entirety. Preventing anyone from finding anything out about him or Ezra.

Or maybe, to prevent them from finding the temple, or the Jedi knowledge she knew had been stored there.

Either way, the explosion lit the area and sent debris flying into the air. She and Kanan were high enough, and Zeb had veered out of the way just in time. But the Lambda shuttle took a direct hit from a flaming projectile and went down. The TIEs managed to avoid any damage, but the distraction also gave Zeb time to dock with the  _Ghost_.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hera commanded as she began climbing. Now that the  _Phantom_  was docked, Zeb began laying down cover fire from behind, taking out another TIE with the help of the  _Kasmiri_  which now flew at her wing.

“Sending coordinates,” Hera told Kanan as they both entered space, that last TIE doggedly following in a final attempt to stop them.

“Received. Ready when you are.”

The navigation system responded. All systems were ready. Hera stared intently ahead.

“Now!”

With the  _Kasmiri_  on her flank and Zeb and Chopper safely on the  _Ghost_ , they made the jump for lightspeed and into safety. Though that brought some minor relief, now that she knew Sabine and Ezra had been captured by the Empire, with no word as to what had happened to the scythe, and no idea where any of them might be, there was only one thing left to do.

They needed help. Hera opened a transmission to Fulcrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I’d love to know what you thought of it! A less emotional chapter than the last, but definitely an important one. Kanan, Ezra, and Proxy are all now homeless. What ever will they do? Of course, to find out they’ll have to get Ezra (and Sabine) back, but before they do, they need to talk with a certain Fulcrum agent.
> 
> And maybe another important person too.
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). Till Friday!


	35. Fulcrum

From within the cabin he and Ezra shared when they visited the  _Ghost_ , Kanan meditated. Or, he tried to. His first hour of meditation had been like a reprieve as his mind sunk gratefully into the numbness of the void. There, he’d focused on calm. On peace. On taking himself away from the many thoughts and distractions that threatened to highjack his mind and send him spiraling into nightmare fantasies. After what he’d seen in the temple, that first hour of mediation felt pure. He felt purer than he’d felt in a long time.

Then the worry crept in and shook his careful purity apart.

With a sigh, Kanan opened his eyes and expanded his Force sight so he could see the rest of the cabin. For hours now he’d struggled trying to regain that meditational purity, but with no luck. Admitting defeat, he rose from his kneeling position and walked to his bunk and reclined back, staring at the bunk above his.

Ezra should be there. The boy’s form should have radiated in his Force sight, but it didn’t. Only empty space occupied that area because his apprentice was with the Grand Inquisitor, somewhere. Both Ezra and Sabine.

And his scythe.

The cold slide of fear rolled over him, as it had countless times already, and Kanan breathed through it, waiting for it to pass. Ever since Hera had confirmed that the kids were missing, this fear and a multitude of other emotions kept swamping him. Anger. Worry. Guilt. Ezra was out there, and as his master, Kanan should be out there right now. Saving him.

But no matter what he and Hera and the others tried to find the kids, they were coming up with nothing. And he could feel in the Force that time was running out.

The desperation growing in his chest made him quietly crave the heat of his scythe, as nauseous as the very idea of it made him feel. It would’ve felt great to just give his emotions a place to go. To empty himself out so he could think clearly again. So he could focus and finally come up with a plan or solution to this problem.

Kanan hated himself for wanting the very thing which had caused all this. He hated himself for creating it in the first place.

But much as he wanted to, much as he ached to empty his emotions and just … not deal with them, the temple and what he’d learned there flashed through his mind, and he’d be reminded. He wouldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_.

Besides, Hera would probably murder him if he tried.

If Ezra and Sabine hadn’t been on the line, Kanan didn’t think he’d stop her.

Kanan let his body go limp. So much of his life was falling apart all around him. He’d lost himself for a while. He’d lost the  _Escape_. He’d lost the scythe. His apprentice and Hera’s crewmate. He’d lost the base.

What was next? Proxy? The  _Kasmiri_? Rosie? Hera?

All things considered, he was surprised he hadn’t lost her yet, though how he’d managed that was some miracle he didn’t think he’d ever comprehend.

Force bless Hera. When he was frozen and lost, she got him moving. When he couldn’t find a way forward, she found one. When he needed to be shoved around and made to see sense, there was no one better. Not even Ezra could do that, despite their years together.

Kanan loved her for that. For being stronger than him. For being everything he wasn’t.

And that was why, despite his deep-seated desire to avoid this rebellion contact Hera was intent they speak with, he was going to go through with it. After all, how could he trust himself now? He’d messed up so much.

But he trusted Hera, and for once, he’d do it her way. What did he have to lose?

Idly, Kanan reached into one of the two small go-bags he’d gathered in the rush before abandoning the base. Familiar items brushed his fingers. Helmet. Mask. Thorilide carving. Holocron and lightsabers. Going completely by touch, he traced the lightsabers before slowly wrapping a hand around one of them, and pulling it out.

The kyber crystal inside it sang gently, and Kanan was surprised he could still hear it singing for him at all.

Sitting up, Kanan stared at the lightsaber in his hand. His old one. The one a different him from another lifetime had used to protect a galaxy. The one he hadn’t used since Kasmir’s death.

The weapon of a Jedi. The only weapon he now had, which could combat both the Grand Inquisitor and his scythe.

His heart squeezed at the thought of using it. Fingers traced the shape of his old weapon, the tips catching on every rise and fall, waiting and ready for him to take it in hand and use it again. Bothered, Kanan disassembled it into two pieces. Weighed them in his hands before reassembling it back into its whole. He broke it apart again.

Much as he knew this would be the only thing he could use to fight, when the time came, Kanan couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t use it. But he needed to use it to stop the scythe. But using it … it wasn’t right. But it was the only way. But he still wasn’t a Jedi, even if he’d survived the temple’s trials.

Kanan looked at the two separate pieces of his old lightsaber and put it back together, but he didn’t turn it on.

Kanan wondered if he’d be brave enough to turn it on, when the time came.

Gentle knocking summoned him from his thoughts and he put the lightsaber behind him on the bunk, out of sight. Then he stood and opened the door. Hera gave him a small smile before nodding toward the galley.

“Fulcrum is here to speak with us.”

Though Kanan didn’t show it, he was surprised. Surely he would’ve noticed the feel of another ship docking with the  _Ghost_ , let alone the presence of another person boarding. Had he been so wrapped up in his thoughts that his awareness had been affected that much?

Kanan took a deep breath, forced stillness into his hands despite the urge to run one of them through his hair to soothe his uneasiness. It wasn’t just that he’d been caught unaware. Ever since Hera had told him she’d contacted this Fulcrum for help, he’d been torn. In truth, he wanted this meeting. If the rebellion could help them find Ezra and Sabine, help them save them, then he was willing to talk to just about anyone.

The bigger problem was that this Fulcrum would know who he was. That he was the Reaper, a truth he’d spent a great deal of time protecting. And now, he wouldn’t be able to hide behind a mask anymore. He hadn’t been able to save his Reaper armor or mask before the base exploded, not that, frankly, he ever wanted to wear it again. But this person, whoever it was, was going to find out about him. And short of avoiding the meeting all together, there was no way to avoid this.

But, given the turn of events which had taken place so rapidly, he was starting to think his secret wasn’t something he’d be able to keep under wraps for much longer. He suspected he knew how the Empire had found the base, and if Kanan was right, he also knew it was only a matter of time before his name and his alias were stripped from him too.

Damn the scythe he’d created.

He supposed that if the Empire was about to find out his identity, the rebellion should also know. After all, he knew which he supported more, when everything was said and done.

“All right,” Kanan said at last. “Let’s talk to your contact. Hopefully they can help.”

“I think she can,” Hera said. “At the very least, I think she’ll be able to help us figure out a direction.” She nodded down the hall. “Come on. She’s waiting for us.”

Frowning, he followed the Twi’lek. Better to get this over with.

When he entered the galley, he wasn’t surprised to find Zeb leaning against the wall, ready for this meeting as much as any of them were. He gave a nod to Kanan when he entered, though in the Force he could still feel an edge of caution drift out from the Lasat. That was fair, and Kanan was even a bit relieved. Zeb was cautious of him. Wary. That wariness would keep him in check.

Keep him aware in case Kanan ever lost control again.

Kanan searched in the Force for the droids and found AP-5 in the cockpit of the  _Ghost_ , while Proxy and Chopper were busy fixing some damage the  _Kasmiri_  had received on their escape from Lothal. Rosie, thankfully, was still sleeping in his ship, and would be for some time to come.

Sitting at the Dejarik table, sipping a mug of steaming tea, was a woman. A Togruta woman.

At their entrance, she turned and stood, and Kanan restrained himself from turning his face away to hide his scars and blind eyes. He listened to the Force, waiting for the inevitable to reach him.

As he’d expected, surprise wafted from the woman, but Kanan was more surprised by how faint it was in the Force. Most emotional responses in people he met were much stronger than that. This … this had been considerably less. Almost controlled.

Too controlled. And that put him on guard.

Kanan studied her now, openly as the Togruta faced Hera and smiled as if they were old friends.

“Thanks for coming,” Hera said gratefully next to him. “A lot has happened, and this conversation … I didn’t think it was one we should have over a transmission.”

“I agree, and I’m glad you reached out to me,” the Togruta said in a calm, smooth voice, one Kanan focused on because he realized he knew it from somewhere. It tugged at the back of his mind like something familiar, and as he searched for the answer, he felt it. The Force. The Force in this woman who was also carefully studying him, he realized, with the same growing curiosity.

Fulcrum turned her gaze to him, and though she didn’t say a thing about his blindness, she said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Reaper.”

A cold slither of discomfort squirmed down Kanan’s back at the sound of his codename. He refused to let it show.

“Fulcrum.”

“You’ll forgive me if I say you’re not what I was expecting,” Fulcrum said, even as Kanan felt himself edging closer and closer to an answer. “I hope you’ll forgive me a second time for asking the obvious question.”

“I’m blind,” Kanan said bluntly, even as he kept his eyes locked on the Togruta’s. Her calm smile didn’t waver.

“Impressive work, for a blind man.”

Kanan didn’t know what it was that triggered it. The sound of her voice, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, but suddenly he knew. He  _did_  know this woman. He’d met her, long ago before the Jedi Purge. A name swept into his mind, one he’d known from another life, in training and stories attached to the great Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.

And what had happened to her before the end of the war.

“Ahsoka Tano.”

Ahsoka blinked, surprise growing louder in the Force, before she gave him another look, one that abandoned all veiled attempts at probing and blatantly searched. Then her eyes softened slightly at the edges, her smile returning a little stronger.

“I do know you,” Ahsoka Tano said, and Kanan could feel the Force ripple around her as she understood. “You’re Caleb Dume.”

Kanan frowned, but that was the only outward sign he gave at the sound of his old, dead name. Hera eyed him, and he could feel Zeb’s curiosity burn like fire from behind him, but he ignored them both and focused on Ahsoka. “Caleb Dume died a long time ago. I’m Kanan Jarrus now.”

The two powerful Force users studied each other before Ahsoka finally said, “I see.”

“I hope you do,” he replied quietly.

“You two know each other?” Zeb asked as Hera put a hand on her hip to wait for answers.

“Yes,” Ahsoka replied. “We were once a part of the Jedi Order together.”

“That was a long time ago,” Kanan muttered. “I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“Neither am I,” Ahsoka added. “Regardless, it’s good to see you survived. Not many of us did.” A solemn tone crept into her voice as they all sat down. “We’ve been tracking you and the Rider for some time, hoping to finally have a conversation and invite you into the rebellion.”

“I know,” Kanan said, trying to move beyond the past and focus on the matter at hand. He gave a quick grin to Hera. “Hera’s been persistent.”

“I haven’t brought up the rebellion in months,” Hera countered, lifting a brow.

Kanan’s grin turned roguish and teasing. Enough, he hoped, to fool them into thinking he was completely in control.

“It was my understanding that you chose not to join, though you’ve continued to work with Hera and her crew,” Ahsoka said from across the table.

“I did,” Kanan replied.

“Has something changed?”

Kanan eyed Ahsoka, weighing his words. “Didn’t Hera tell you why we called?”

“Not exactly,” Ahsoka admitted. “The transmission was only safe enough to tell me it was trouble with the Empire, and that it involved you, the Rider, and a member of Hera’s crew, and that you’d both like to speak with me. I came in person to find out why, and perhaps find a way we can help each other.”

“Perhaps there is a way,” Kanan said, and Ahsoka’s attention remained locked on him. “I want to make a deal. If you help me and Hera, I will join your rebellion.”

“And the Rider?” Ahsoka asked. “Are you speaking on behalf of your partner as well?”

Kanan frowned and glanced at Hera, who returned the look. Then she addressed Ahsoka. “The Rider has wanted to join from the beginning. We’ve just been waiting for Kanan to agree.”

“I see,” Ahsoka said as she looked to the side, gathering her thoughts. She looked up, and there was focus there. “What do you need, Kanan?”

He licked his lips. “I need your help rescuing my apprentice, the Rider, and Hera’s crewmate. They’ve been captured by the Empire. By the Grand Inquisitor.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, surprise echoing out into the Force.

“Your apprentice?”

Kanan nodded. “He’s a Force user too. He’s powerful, and I’ve been training him to become a Jedi. I sense the Grand Inquisitor will do what he can to break him. Make him fall, and he’ll kill Sabine in the process, I know it.” Kanan sighed heavily. “Ahsoka, I can’t let that happen.”

Ahsoka’s brow furrowed slightly as she considered what he’d said.

“This is troubling,” she muttered under her breath. “What information do you have?”

“Only that they’ve been captured,” Zeb provided with a wave of his hand. “We’ve been trying to find more, but everything’s been hush-hush. The Grand Inquisitor, if that’s who’s got them, is doing a good job of keeping this quiet.”

“It’s him,” Kanan said. “I saw it in a Force vision.”

That caught Ahsoka’s attention immediately. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure. And besides,” Kanan said more sedately. “Right now Ezra’s there, and you know how Master-Padawan bonds are. Also, the Grand Inquisitor … he has something that belongs to me. Something almost as strong. I know they’re with him.”

“You’re asking for the rebellion’s help finding them and rescuing them?”

“We’re asking for whatever support the rebellion can provide,” Hera agreed. “Can you help us?”

Ahsoka looked between them for a long moment.

“I believe we can help you rescue them,” Ahsoka said. “The problem, however, will be locating them, wherever they’re being held. Until we can locate them, there is very little we can do. What have you tried to find them?”

“Slicing, mostly,” Hera replied. “Zeb and Chopper infiltrated an Imperial compound on Lothal to get what information we could, but couldn’t find anything past that. We’ve had three droids working ever since, trying to dig up any leads, but nothing so far.”

“We haven’t bashed in any bucketheads yet,” added Zeb. “But mostly we’ve been waiting for … unusual reports to indicate where they are. Mass murder. Beheadings. The Grand Inquisitor going insane. The like.”

“Why would he go insane?” Ahsoka questioned curiously, and Kanan shook his head.

“The item he has that’s mine? It can do those sorts of things,” Kanan responded vaguely. “The point is, none of that’s come up, and nothing’s surfacing.”

“Besides interrogating Imperials, all that’s left is to try the grapevine. Reach out to our contacts. But honestly, I can’t think of anyone who might have the answer we need,” Hera added. “It all happened so quickly, I wonder if anyone outside of the Empire knows.”

“I see,” Ahsoka murmured, but that was when Kanan’s mind cut out.

They had tried everything they could think of, and he agreed with Hera that most of their contacts wouldn’t know anything. He doubted even Maz would, and she was as connected as they came.

But he could think of someone else who might.

“Actually … I think I have an idea,” he abruptly said. “I might have someone who could tell me something. A … a friend.”

Hera lifted a brow. “A friend?”

“Yeah,” Kanan agreed, unwilling to say much more. “He owes me a favor, and he’s usually tapped into Imperial matters. He might know something.”

“How soon can you get in touch with this friend?” Ahsoka asked, and Kanan frowned as he considered.

“I don’t know. Wait here. I … I might have an answer soon.”

Both women stared at him, but he ignored them and walked back to his cabin and shut the door. Reaching for his go-bag, he frowned as he shifted through the items inside until his fingers closed around what he’d been searching for.

A very special comlink, meant to contact only one person.

He took a breath and said a silent prayer before activating it with a flick of his thumb. Closing his eyes, Kanan waited for the signal to make its way across space. Though he hoped, Kanan didn’t expect a response. Not for a while anyway.

And that meant Kanan was beyond surprised when, a minute later, he received a warning for an incoming transmission. His heart suddenly pounded in his chest as he thumbed the comlink again and brought it closer to his mouth.

“That was fast.”

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting a call from you,” Kallus replied a moment later. “After all, the Rider has been captured, along with a Mandalorian girl he’s been known to associate with. The Grand Inquisitor appears quite pleased with himself. I’m sure you’re concerned about that.”

Kanan was in no mood for games. “What do you know, Kallus?”

A smug chuckle swelled from the comlink.

“What makes you think I know anything,  _friend_?”

The bite there was unmistakable, and Kanan glowered as if it could make its way all the way through space.

“What do you want?” he gritted out, cutting to the chase. The smug tone in Kallus’s voice vanished, replaced with unmistakable seriousness.

“You know what I want.”

Kanan did.

“And you can deliver?” Kanan demanded.

“I swear on my life,” Kallus said with cool pride. “And you of all people should know that is no lie.”

Again, Kanan did. And that was the only reason he was continuing with this at all.

“Fine. If you tell me where the Grand Inquisitor is taking the Rider and the Mandalorian,” Kanan growled into the comlink. “I will consider your debt to me absolved. I will never ask for a thing from you. I won’t even contact you again. Just tell me where they are, give me the clearance codes needed to get where I need to go, and we are out of each other’s lives. You have my word.”

Silence met him from the other side of the comlink, and Kanan wanted to scream, to roar at the Imperial whose life belonged to him and demand he answer when Kallus’s voice slipped back out.

“Mustafar,” Kallus said with cool, precise words. “They’re being taken to the Mustafar system. I’ll send you clearance codes momentarily.”

Kanan let the breath he’d been holding slip out, but he still narrowed his eyes at the comlink untrustingly. “This better not be a trick. You know what will happen if I find out you’ve set me up.”

“I know,” Kallus said just as coolly as before, but there was iron there in his words now too. “No one knows better than I do just how far your tenacity can take you. But I am a man of my word, as you well know. That is where they are. These codes will get you on board any of the three destroyers there which might be holding your companions. Now. Upon receipt of the codes, I am absolved of the debt?”

“Yes.”

“Then check. I’ve sent them.” Kanan picked up a datapad and fiddled with it until he found a small list of codes waiting for him. Closing his eyes, he gripped the comlink.

“They’re received. Your debt is absolved.”

“Then it’s been a pleasure,” Kallus replied smoothly. “You’ll likely die there, so I expect this is our final chat.”

Silence filled the static of the comlink, and Kanan took a deep breath. Mustafar. He’d heard so many terrible rumors about that place. Rumors that left little doubt in his mind that Kallus wasn’t lying to him. More than likely, Kanan was positive he’d find his apprentice and Sabine there.

And if not, if this Imperial had lied to him and that lie cost Ezra and Sabine their lives, the Reaper would have one final kill to make before he fell to the dark side entirely.

But somehow … Kanan didn’t think Kallus was lying.

Quietly, Kanan said, “Thank you.”

From the other end of the comlink, Kanan thought he heard the faintest of chuckles before it clicked off and went dead.

* * *

 

Kanan sat in the turret, thinking over everything he, Hera, Zeb, and Ahsoka had discussed. If Kallus’s information panned out — which he thought it would — they would be heading toward Mustafar.

Jedi or not, over the years Kanan had heard stories of Mustafar. That it was the place Jedi went to die.

And Ezra was there. With the Grand Inquisitor.

Kanan was glad Ahsoka had left some time ago to make arrangements with the rebellion for the aid they would provide for the mission. His grip on his emotions and Force expression wasn’t as good as it was earlier, and more than ever he wanted to focus on something, anything, and pour his emotions into it.

Instead, he clenched his hands together in his lap and breathed through the urge until it faded again. He had to be patient. They knew where the kids were now, and they had support, even if Kanan felt a bit like he’d sold himself in the process. They had a plan.

He just hoped the plan panned out.

“There you are,” a voice called up to him, and Kanan shifted his sight to find Hera below, waiting. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing up there?”

“Just thinking,” Kanan admitted before he shifted out of the seat, then down the rungs to give her a roguish grin which hid his unease. He waggled his eyebrows. “So, you were looking for me, huh?”

“Just making sure you hadn’t disappeared on me again,” she replied evenly, though her tone relaxed a bit at the light teasing. “I’m still trying to get a feel on these new changes your showing, so until I figure them out, sorry if I keep an eye on you.”

“Keep both eyes on me,” he urged, teasing again though inwardly there was a plea. Her brow furrowed a little as if she’d caught that plea, and his demeanor cooled slightly in response. “It’s probably better that you do.”

“What do you mean?”

Kanan took a slow breath before releasing it out of his nose. When he didn’t immediately reply, Hera looked over her shoulder before gesturing for him to follow.

He was relieved by the privacy her cabin provided them, when she turned into it, even if his mind was tempted to delve down a separate road entirely. After everything that had happened, especially with the kids in danger, the likelihood of anything physical happening was minuscule. Frankly, Kanan didn’t feel up to it even if the opportunity for some intimate time with Hera  _did_  present itself.

Hera settled on her bunk and, with nowhere else to sit, he sank down beside her. For a moment, the silence between them grew thick, and he didn’t know what to say. Hera didn’t prompt him, only waited for him to broach the subject in his own time, and he knew he should. He knew he needed to.

He couldn’t let himself become whatever he’d been. Not again. And the only one he could trust to stop him, it seemed, was Hera. She needed to know.

Kanan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees before clasping his hands and pressing his lips against them. Then, he spoke.

“While I was in the temple, I saw a lot of things.”

“That’s what you told me,” Hera replied, edging the conversation, clearly waiting to see where he was going with this. “You saw people.”

Flashes of his time in the temple crossed his mind, and the lingering ache in his chest returned. He took a jagged breath at the thought of it all, and wondered how much he’d be able to tell her right now. He wanted to tell her all of it. Chances were, in time, he would. But right now, it was still raw.

But he might be able to give her something. Perhaps the most important thing.

“Yeah. People from my past. Myself.” Her eyebrows rose, and he chuckled at her. “Yeah, hard to believe, I know. I saw a Jedi Master. I saw … other things. But seeing them, and talking to them … I guess the best thing to say is that they balanced me out. I’m more … me.”

“Open,” Hera supplied, and Kanan gave her a small smile.

“Yeah. More open. I can see better now, what I did. How I got to the point I did. It opened my eyes.”

She was quiet, waiting for him to continue, and he almost wished she’d say something. Anything, since it would give him a way to verbally weasel out of this conversation he realized now he didn’t actually want to have. But as always, she had this sixth sense about her when it came to him, and finally he pushed the words out.

“I … I can’t trust myself, Hera. I think I can, and I want to, but right now … I was aware while my scythe controlled my body. I saw what it did. I knew while it happened that … I’d done this. That by trying to separate myself from my emotions, I’d only made everything worse.”

“You seem to be doing okay now,” Hera pointed out. “You haven’t had your scythe for days.”

“You’re right, and I know,” Kanan said before he swallowed and said the hardest part of this. “But I’ve wanted it.”

He could feel the cool touch of dread drag over the Twi’lek beside him, and his shoulders hunched slightly. “It’s true, Hera. Even though I came out … better, even though I understand now … I still want it. It’s what I put my emotions in, to separate them from me, so I could focus and think, and Hera—” Kanan ran his hands up over his face and through his hair, clenching his eyes shut. “The urge to do it again, to start over with  _anything_  has been hounding me. I’ve been doing this for years. I’m afraid I can’t stop.”

Kanan’s last words were hardly a whisper, but they felt the most real. The most … baring, because they were the truth. He was afraid. For the first time in years, he could see clearly, but the desire, the itch to do what he’d been doing for so long, separate himself from his emotions … it was still there. The temple hadn’t gotten rid of it. It was still a damned aching monster within himself, and he didn’t want it anymore.

“You’re afraid you’ll fall back,” Hera said quietly, understanding slipping into her voice. “And you don’t want to.”

“No,” Kanan admitted, keeping his eyes shut. “I don’t.”

A soft hum carried from Hera’s chest over to him, and it was so lovely and so soothing it made his chest ache painfully. The warm feel of a hand brushing over his tight shoulders made him flinch, but to his relief Hera didn’t pull away.

“Come here,” she said as she tugged at his shoulders and, to his surprise, she pulled him against her. Soon they were laying down, his face pressed into the crook of her neck as they held each other. Her hand swept up and down his spine, and though it wasn’t the first time they’d shared space like this, he felt blessed and unworthy of it more than usual. He didn’t deserve this kindness. How could this one woman be so … incredible?

“A part of me can’t believe you’re here,” Hera confided in a soft murmur, pressing her head gently against his. “After I shot you … I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to hold you again.”

In the Force, Kanan could feel it. The truth of her words. The bittersweet ache that came with doing what had to be done and succeeding, and hating having had to do it in the first place. He felt her anger. Her relief. Both were there, and he doubted either would truly let up any time soon.

He felt something else there too, within the comforting press of her emotions. It was warm, and it curled around him protectively. It matched the growing warmth he’d been feeling in his own chest for a while now, and he held her tighter against him as his emotions started to swell in time with hers.

“I know it tore you up, but Force, I’m so glad you did that.” Kanan clutched at her shoulder, holding her tight. “I’m so glad you stopped me.”

“I stopped the Shade,” Hera corrected as she smiled weakly. “And I did tell you I’d shoot you if you let that thing get out again. Remember?”

Dark humor as it was, Kanan couldn’t help the small huff of amusement that escaped his lips before he closed his eyes and relaxed against her. “Yeah, you did.”

Hera breathed into his hair. She squeezed him gently as she did. “Please, Kanan. Don’t make me do it again.”

Listening to her heart beat against his ear, feeling her warmth seep into him, calming him with each breath, he couldn’t stop himself from responding.

“I won’t,” he promised, a ping of fear racing through his body as he said the words. “I won’t.”

He didn’t know if he was lying or not. He was terrified he was lying to her. That he might accidentally create another monster. That it might overtake him the same way the scythe had. That his scythe might get to him again.

But though he was afraid, he realized there was something behind the promise that he hadn’t had before, except with Ezra.

Conviction. He didn’t _want_ to break this promise to her, even though he knew he’d be tempted to. Even if the odds were against him.

He’d made a promise to Hera, and though he was terrified of his ability to keep it, he vowed he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? Did you like it? We’re building momentum now, and from here on out things are going to keep on picking up the pace, and we’re in for a wild ride as the showdown with the Grand Inquisitor and the scythe gets closer.
> 
> Now, for one of the bigger points of the chapter: Kallus. Does he feel like a giant lose string? A stray end? Like there’s more there that could be dug up?
> 
> My friends, that is intentional. There is a potential sequel to Blackbird which revolves heavily around Kallus (which I’m considering doing some time in the future) and this is my opening for that. It won’t be for some time (probably not until a while after Rebels season 4 is over so I can work out some plot points), but it’s at least a possibility :]
> 
> Secondly, I’ve made an executive decision. There will not be any explicit sexy-times in this fic. When I started it, I thought I might include one, but I’ve decided not to. There might be a one-shot I could do at the end, if there’s interest, but I think I’ll simply imply sexy-times instead, if it happens in this story. 
> 
> That being said, I’d like your opinion. I’m not great at rating my work, and I always aim high when I rate my stories. Right now it’s at Mature rating, but I suppose it’s possible that it could be lowered to Teen. The content — I’ve always thought — is pretty dark, and the addiction language is pretty strong at points, and that’s nothing to say about the death which underscores the entire thing. What do you think? Keep it at Mature? Lower it to Teen? I’m happy keeping it where it is, but I’d hate to misrepresent Blackbird’s content.
> 
> Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought! A lot’s going to happen in the next two chapter, so hang tight. If you’d like, you can keep up with me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/).


	36. Torment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some torture in this chapter for our Blueberry. Electroshocks and psychological torture make up the majority of it (a backhand for Sabine is the rest of it), so if you’d prefer to skip that section, I understand. It's the last section. It begins with: Ezra didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in this cell.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Rosie,” Kanan said as patiently as he could. “No.”

The nexu bared her teeth at him, snarling. Her claws dug into the metal floor of the  _Kasmiri_ , and Kanan flinched at the grating sound. In the Force, he strengthened his will and attempted the command again.

“You’re staying here.”

This time she gave a yowling screech and her tail thrashed behind her. The bond between them wobbled, and Kanan instinctively leapt back to avoid a claw to the face.

“Seems she likes Ezra more than she likes you,” Zeb commented as he watched the exchange from the safer position by the hatch. “Listens to him just fine.”

“She’s never liked me,” Kanan muttered. “Ezra’s good at connecting, and she bonded with him faster than any of the other beasts he’s ever worked with. Of course she listens to him.”

“Well, make her listen to you. We’ve got to go.”

“Thanks, Zeb,” Kanan growled over his shoulder. “I had no idea.”

They were supposed to be boarding the Imperial shuttle the rebellion had provided for their infiltration right now. Proxy was already waiting, disguised as an Imperial, and Chopper had undergone a haphazard paint-job to do much the same thing, sporting Imperial black and red. Together with him and Zeb, they would enter one of the Star Destroyers under the guise of captured bounty hunters. Once inside, Proxy and Chopper would find the kids, then lead them through the bowels of the ship so they could rescue them and get the hell out. Hera would be outside providing support and a quick escape when they were ready with the help of a small squadron of rebel fighters.

Rosie was supposed to stay behind too. Unfortunately, they’d run out of sedatives to keep her docile and — as if sensing what was going on — she’d started raging within the confines of the  _Kasmiri_.

When Kanan had checked the Force to figure out what was wrong, all he’d seen in her animalistic mind was desire. Desire for Ezra. To find him, and the urge threatened to rival Kanan’s own. Maybe it was growing Force sensitivity given to her by Ezra’s bond with her, or plain old animal instinct, but she knew they were about to go for Ezra.

Her blue eyes were flicks of ice where they locked on Kanan. She wanted to go too.

“You can’t go,” Kanan tried, instilling in their tentative Force bond the need for safety and obedience. To stay.

Rosie snarled again, swiping a claw so fast the air whistled with the movement. Kanan ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t _good_ at this. Connecting had always been Ezra’s gift, not his.

“You’ll die if you go, then what?” Kanan exclaimed, his anger rising. “Every Imperial on that ship will use you for target practice the moment they see you!”

Rosie screamed and the bond writhed, then snapped. Kanan threw himself out of the way as all control over the nexu vanished. Zeb dove for the hatch leading to the  _Ghost_ , and Kanan rushed after him, slamming the hatch closed an instant before Rosie’s teeth would’ve found his leg. Muted shrieks filled his ears, mixing with the anger in the Force radiating out of her. Kanan worried that not only would Rosie tear his ship apart, but she’d do so thorough a job she might pop a hole in it and space herself.

If Kanan let anything happen to Rosie, and Ezra found out, forgiveness would be a hard thing earned. If it came at all.

“She didn’t seem to like that,” Zeb said and Kanan rolled his blind eyes.

“You think?”

“What’s going on?” Hera demanded as she appeared, eyeing them then the violent noise coming from the  _Kasmiri_.

“Rosie’s upset we’re not taking her along,” Kanan replied. “She’s throwing a tantrum.”

“Can’t you calm her down?” Hera asked, flinching at the ominous sound of metal rending somewhere inside. “Ezra always manages.”

“I’m not Ezra!” Kanan huffed. “All she  _wants_  is Ezra, and I think she’s willing to kill herself to get her way!”

“That’s the Rider’s nexu?”

In the Force, Kanan saw Ahsoka approach. She’d met up with them again, once she’d brought the Lambda shuttle and her small squad of fighters.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Kanan gritted out as Rosie roared and began striking the hatch with the brute force of her split tail. Both he and Zeb backed away.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ahsoka asked, and Kanan was thankful Hera decided to speak for him.

“Apparently, she wants to go along with them. To find him,” the Twi’lek said to the Togruta.

“They’re bonded,” Kanan explained, knowing Ahsoka would understand. “It’s probably worse because they’ve been used against each other recently. She’s worried about him.”

“I see.” Ahsoka stepped beside him before lifting a hand and closing her eyes. The Force shifted at her command as she stretched out to Rosie. Kanan wasn’t sure if he was surprised when the raging nexu inside calmed, or not. Ahsoka’s lips pulled down as she studied Rosie, then she withdrew. Although Rosie had calmed for the Togruta, she started thrashing and yowling again. “This is a problem.”

“If the rebellion has any sedatives to spare, maybe not,” Kanan said. “She’s been sedated for several days. We’re out.”

“It’s not a problem of sedation,” Ahsoka said as she looked at him. “We could sedate her. But I feel in the Force that is not the correct way.”

Kanan’s brow furrowed, not liking the way the other Force user had said that. Reuniting with a former Jedi was both relieving and unnerving. On one hand, he had someone who completely understood everything he did and said about the Force, and on his level. Ezra understood, and sometimes surprised Kanan with leaps of insight Kanan had never thought of before. But Ezra was still an apprentice. Ahsoka had years of experience like he did. They could get right to the point.

That also, conversely, meant they got right to the point.

“You sense something,” he stated, and with a sinking feeling he knew what she would say, now that she’d reoriented his mind to check the Force.

“Perhaps you should take her,” Ahsoka said as she studied the situation. “You say this nexu has a strong bond with your apprentice. That it’s strong enough it’s been used against them. Perhaps it is worth the risk to use it to our advantage now. Surely she could locate him far faster than we could.”

Kanan’s mouth felt clumsy with disbelief. “Ahsoka. She’s a  _nexu_. Every Imperial on that ship is going to take one look at her and shoot her. There’s no way we can get her in, keep her alive long enough to find Ezra, then get her out again. She’ll compromise the mission.”

“If the situation is handled correctly, perhaps not.” Ahsoka smiled. “You could convince her to behave.”

“She’s not listening to me,” Kanan countered. “And if she’s not listening to me now, she won’t listen to me once we’re on the ship.”

“It sounds like your connection with her needs to be stronger,” Ahsoka said. “If your apprentice is her goal, does it not follow that she would do what she needs to do, to accomplish that goal?”

Kanan took a deep breath as he turned his eyes away, placing his hands on his hips. In the Force, he could feel that was … likely. That the moment she got her way, she’d start listening again, even to him. But this … this was insane!

“You can’t be considering this,” Zeb said, face hard. Worry and disbelief flowed from the Lasat, matching his own, and still Kanan was considering it. Kanan cast a glance at Hera, but she only frowned back at him. He could feel her discomfort as well.

But he also knew she saw some reason behind Ahsoka’s argument, Force user or not. After everything she’d seen in the last week alone regarding the Force and what it could do, Kanan knew she was grudgingly ready to expect anything from the Force or its users. Even the impossible.

Kanan let out a deep sigh, before he faced the hatch.

“Fine!” Kanan shouted, reaching out to the Force to bombard Rosie with the decision. “Fine, you damned tooka! You’re coming! Now stop!”

Rosie stopped immediately.

They all glanced at each other. Kanan arched a brow at Zeb, and the Lasat frowned.

“This is all you, mate,” Zeb replied, stepping away as it to avoid execution. “I’ll wait here until she’s done tearing you apart.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Just be careful,” Hera said before she nodded for him to go in. On the other side, he could see Rosie waiting, docile as a Loth-cat. Tentatively, he reached out to connect with her and form the Force bond. He was relieved when he found no deadly intent to kill.

Slowly he opened the hatch and, to his relief, she didn’t race through to bite off his head.

He stared at her before focusing his Force impressions on obedience and calm.

“All right, we’re taking you, but you’re going to listen to what I say. Ezra won’t forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

A low rumble slipped from Rosie’s throat, and he felt animalistic understanding flow back to him along the bond. He frowned, but there was no denying this behavior was the best they were going to get from the nexu.

“We should get her in the shuttle,” Ahsoka said. “Everything’s ready, and we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

“Yes, because I’m eager to die,” Zeb replied as he strode away, shaking his head at Rosie.

Kanan ignored him before motioning the nexu through the hatch. With a roll of her body, she flattened her quills and entered the  _Ghost_  with beastly grace. Hera shifted back, but Rosie paused in front of Ahsoka long enough for the Force user to smile and stroke a light hand over the nexu’s brow.

“I wish you all good luck,” the Togruta said before stepping away.

“We’ll be there soon to give you the distraction you’ll need,” Hera told him. “Just find the kids and call me when you’re ready for a pick up.”

Kanan gave her a wry grin. “I won’t hesitate, darling.”

That earned him a small, slightly stressed smile, but it was enough. It loosened the tension on her face, and made him feel slightly better about the plan, even with the unexpected addition of Rosie. Hera had wanted to come along as well, but if there was one thing Hera was, it was a realist when she needed to be. She still wasn’t completely recovered from the wound on her shoulder, and they needed someone in the air. Injured or not, there was still no one better, even if it didn’t settle her nerves.

But she trusted him to do this. Trusted all of them to get Sabine and Ezra back.

And somehow, he would.

Kanan led the nexu through the ship and into the shuttle. Proxy — already Imperially disguised — looked surprised at Rosie’s entrance. Zeb was already sitting as Chopper snapped on a pair of binders. Everyone shifted back to give Rosie room as she settled on the floor, patiently waiting for the mission to start so she could get her boy.

“Stay just like that,” Kanan said as the ramp closed behind them. He took a seat next to Zeb and, after ensuring Rosie was settled, Chopper chittered before placing binders on Kanan as well.

“So how exactly are we going to explain her?” Zeb asked, still eyeing the beast like she might attack at any moment.

“We’re smuggler’s. I have talent soothing beasts like this despite being blind. We’re partners and while I handle the beast, you help lead me around and manage the business. The Imperials haven’t killed her yet because she’s needed for an investigation and as leverage. That’s the story we’re working with.”

“This is insane,” Zeb said as they sat with their knees brushing, hands in binders and a contented young nexu at their feet. “There’s no way this’ll work.”

Despite Ahsoka’s reason and the will of the Force, it was hard for Kanan to disagree. They were taking a nexu on a Star Destroyer where the Grand Inquisitor and Kanan’s scythe were already waiting, where hundreds of Imperials — all armed with blasters of their own — would be waiting, as if this was a good idea.

Rosie shuffled her paws, wiggling her body and making her quills riffle audibly. Excitement wafted from her at the thought of finding Ezra and Kanan sighed as he dropped his head back so his sightless eyes were facing the ceiling.

“Yeah. We’re going to die.”

The shuttle flared to life as Proxy and Chopper took control, and Kanan watched the world around them bleed into starlines as they began the trip to Mustafar and the Star Destroyers that waited there.

* * *

 

Astonishingly, despite both his and Zeb’s certainty that this wouldn’t last longer than lowering the ramp, things went according to plan.

Kallus’s intel had come through, and once Kanan had searched the Force for his apprentice, he found himself drawn toward the central Star Destroyer as if by magnetism. The clearance codes also came through, and Proxy’s acting and Imperial holotempate got them aboard in no time. The infiltration was smooth as silk. Rosie hardly shifted.

Then the ramp lowered, and the officer sent to check them had reacted exactly as they’d expected at the sight of the young beast. Kanan and Zeb held their breath. In the Force, Kanan held Rosie tight as if holding a leash.

She bared her teeth, but didn’t do much more.

“What’s this?” the Imperial demanded, hand resting readily on his blaster. Proxy and Chopper nudged Zeb up, then Kanan. Proxy turned with a convincing scowl, his voice deep and annoyed.

“Prisoner transfer, like I said coming in.”

“We knew about the prisoner transfer,” the officer replied uneasily, cowed by both the threat of Rosie and Proxy’s harsh disposition. “But you didn’t mention anything about a nexu.”

“Didn’t think you’d let me in,” Proxy replied with a shrug. “Look. My job is just to get them here and make sure they’re properly detained. That’s it. It’s been hell transporting them and all I want to do is go to the mess, eat, and sleep for a week. If you’ve got a problem with it, bring it up with my superiors. I’m taking them to the detention block.”

“But we’ve only cleared one room,” the Imperial replied, scrambling as Proxy successfully kept him on his toes. “Where are we going to put it? We can’t just leave it here!”

“My plan was to shove them all in and be done with it. The blind guy can control that monster, believe it or not, but only barely. If he wants to live, he’ll keep that thing controlled. If not, then it dies, he dies, they all die, and that’s the end of my mission. But my Colonel has plans for these sleemos. I’ve got to try to keep them alive.”

The Imperial looked torn, and glanced over his shoulder uneasily. Proxy pressed him hard.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“All right, all right! Just-just hold on a moment.” The Imperial turned and spoke into a comlink, and while his back was to them, Zeb’s muscles tensed next to his, and Kanan wondered if he was going to have to pull out his lightsaber sooner than expected. Were they going to have to fight their way through, or were they going to be allowed inside?

The Imperial turned, and his face was grim.

“The blind one better be able to control that beast, or this is all on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Proxy said with a careless, fed-up shrug. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They and their entourage made quite a sight, and Kanan had no doubt any privates aboard were going to be flooding the rumor mill within minutes. Proxy and a guard in front, Zeb holding Kanan’s arm while Kanan held Rosie’s improvised ‘leash’ — a wrangling cable — and gave her both verbal and Force commands to make sure she behaved.

Astonishingly, she did. The worst that happened was she’d slapped her split-tail at the floor and made a sound which caused most everyone around to jump.

Behind them, Chopper rolled with a pair of guards bringing up the rear, blasters trained on the nexu if she so much as twitched wrong.

“So, how long have you had these guys?” the guard with Proxy asked, making small talk. Proxy grunted.

“Better part of a week. Between the Lasat and that furred nightmare back there, thought I’d die from the smell days ago.”

While Proxy kept the guard talking, led on by Zeb, Kanan turned his attention inward. Began searching the Force.

In this entire ship, where was Ezra?

Much as it bothered him, he wasn’t sure. Since he hadn’t cleared his emotions, his focus and sight weren’t as strong or precise as they otherwise would be. He felt the entire ship, sure, but right now it was as if he was looking at faint sketches, the most defined portions being the area nearest him. There were many people here. Many compartments. Many floors. It was all muddled up.

But he did feel a strengthening of the Force, both dark side and light.

Kanan frowned. He was sure. Ezra was here, and so was the Grand Inquisitor. And his scythe.

“Anything?” Zeb murmured under his breath, his hand tightening on Kanan’s arm. “I’m getting antsy.”

“Be patient,” he muttered back. “I’m still looking.”

The task wasn’t made any easier by the fact he had to keep half his mind on the nexu trailing him. Now that they were aboard, he could feel her interest and her instincts begin to rise. This was an unnatural place for her, with unnatural scents, and people who reminded her of the female Inquisitor who’d tortured her into finding Ezra. Rosie’s will pushed against his, but through the bond he was doing what he could to smooth it out. Get her to focus on finding Ezra.

That thought focused her mind, but she couldn’t find anything either and that distressed her. She wanted Ezra. Craved the boy, and now that need was growing like a wave.

“We’ve had a lot of weird prisoners here lately,” the guard with Proxy said, his voice breaking into Kanan’s thoughts. “Few days ago we got a Mandalorian traitor and a kid everyone’s saying is the Rider. You know. The one who works with the Reaper.” The guard cast a glance back at Rosie. “Hear he has something like that thing too.”

“Is that right?” Proxy said, acting as if he was impressed but pretending to hide it. “Beats my haul, if that’s true.”

“It’s true, and there might be more to it,” the guard insisted, forgetting about Rosie to talk about his more interesting prisoners. “A member of the Inquisitorius is here.”

“The inqui-what?”

“The Inquisitorius,” the guard pressed, striving to impress Proxy. “They’re the ones you call when you’re dealing with Jedi.”

“Get out!” Proxy exclaimed as if finally relenting to show genuine interest. “There aren’t any more Jedi. I know you’re lying now.”

“Not lying.” The guard puffed out his chest. “He’s being held in the same detention block, same as that Mando. I’ll show you the feeds after we’re done locking these prisoners up.”

“Still think you’re lying,” Proxy grumbled, but the droid had done exactly what they’d hoped he’d be able to do. Find Ezra and Sabine. They would be in the same detention block. All they’d have to do was get down there, incapacitate the guards and soldiers in that block, have Proxy assume one of their identities, find Ezra and Sabine, and get out before the Grand Inquisitor showed up.

Along with Kanan’s scythe.

He hoped it would be that simple.

Kanan knew he wouldn’t get his wish when Rosie abruptly froze.

“Rosie?” Kanan said slowly, stopping as he faced her. Beside him he felt Zeb’s alarm grow in the Force like a bonfire, his grip on Kanan’s arm squeezing painfully as he sensed what was coming.

“Oh no.”

By now everyone had stopped and the feel of the hallway had gone from uncomfortable and tight, to charged. Blasters lifted, conversation stopped. Everything froze as still as Rosie.

Kanan slowly lifted his hands.

“Come on girl. Behave or we die.”

Though a few quills twitched in response, Kanan saw in the Force that her attention was seized completely, her mind tracking through the Force. Another bond began swelling within her, one which Kanan mentally followed.

Kanan fought to keep his face blank when he felt the relieving feel of Ezra’s Force presence at the same moment she did. It filled the Force with light. Ezra was alive.

But in pain, and overwhelmed with sharp, unmistakable fear.

Kanan knew all bets were off when the desire in Rosie turned to rage.

“Get back!” Kanan roared as he threw Zeb away and dropped the wrangling cable leash. Immediately the sounds of blasters clicking filled the air, but Kanan was too fast for them. With a great heave, he Force shoved their guards into the walls with violent impacts which rendered them all unconscious. Rosie crouched, muscles tightening, quills slicking back as her mind filled with hot fury.

She shrieked ferociously, and the sound echoed through the corridors like a battle cry.

Kanan only had time to Force pull a blaster to his hands before he vaulted onto Rosie’s back, carefully positioning himself in the same place Ezra always did when he rode her.

“Kanan—!”

“Keep going!” Kanan yelled as Rosie reared, her split-tail flicking back like a deadly whip. “We’ll keep everyone distracted!”

Zeb yelled again, Proxy’s voice coupling in the air with the Lasat’s, but Kanan didn’t know what they’d said. Figures were appearing in his Force sense, coming out everywhere in response to Rosie’s enraged screech. He lifted his blaster and took aim, firing before anyone could fire at them first.

Alarms howled through the ship, and Kanan vowed that if they all somehow managed to get out of this, he would never listen to another thing Ahsoka Tano said in his life.

Rosie raced forward, and Kanan had no choice but to hold on.

* * *

 

Ezra didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in this cell. Hours? Days? Weeks? A couple of days at least by his internal clock. Then again, it was difficult to keep track of that too, when he traded places between consciousness, unconsciousness, and pain so interchangeably. At the very least … he was sure of the days.

No matter how long, it was long enough for Hera and Kanan and the others to assume the worst. For Kanan to assume the worst, the moment he woke up and found Ezra gone, no scythe around, and he and Sabine late.

Much as Ezra would’ve liked a rescue, he hoped Kanan wouldn’t come for him.

“Thinking about your master, young Jedi?”

Ezra glared but said nothing, his policy since the torture had started. No wisecracking. No smart-mouthing. It wouldn’t get him anywhere except in more pain, even if it would’ve greatly soothed his pride. Strung up like this, immobilized, connection to the Force weakened, and at the whims of the Grand Inquisitor’s complete attentions? The man who’d killed his parents?

It wasn’t only degrading. It was maddening.

“No?” the Inquisitor asked as he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. “I should tell you the truth, Ezra. I’ve been thinking about your master a great deal. His toy. The thing he made? It’s told me so much.” The Grand Inquisitor’s breath was stiflingly hot against Ezra’s face, and it was a struggle not to lose his cool. “Like his name, or the location of your little base. Kanan Jarrus. Lothal. I sent troops there. It’ll only be a matter of time before I capture him and all your other little friends.”

Ezra’s heart squeezed at the thought. One of his worries had been the Grand Inquisitor finding out the location of the temple. Of home. Of this monster finding everyone else, and catching them before they could escape. But he couldn’t show that. This was just a mind game.

He couldn’t let himself believe it.

The Pau’an waited to see if Ezra would rise to the bait before he spoke again. “I wonder if he’s told you as much as I know now. I suspect not. Did you know ‘Kanan Jarrus’ isn’t his real name? Has he told you that?” The Grand Inquisitor grinned. “I know what it is.”

The smug sound of the Inquisitor’s voice struck a chord, and no matter how resilient he’d been up until now, Ezra’s anger flashed.

“I don’t care!” Ezra snarled as his shoulders jerked violently at the restraints. “I don’t need to know everything. I know enough! I know everything that matters!”

“Oh, I doubt that, my young apprentice,” the Grand Inquisitor replied, satisfied by his outburst, and an ugly burn of rage smeared itself across Ezra’s chest.

“Did you know he abandoned his own master?” The Inquisitor straightened and did one of the things Ezra hated most about this. He prowled around him, a slow, amused, menacing prowl, like a predator corralling helpless prey. “He also let many people he loved die. He ran. Left them behind. If he has such a history, aren’t you worried he will do the same with you?”

“He wouldn’t,” Ezra growled with conviction. “No matter what that thing tells you, I know him better.”

“This  _thing_ ,” the Grand Inquisitor said as he gestured to the scythe from where it rested on his back, replacing the circular lightsaber in the holster there like a trophy. “Is a Sith’s weapon, Jedi. You are no Sith. Not yet—”

“Never.”

“—so how can you claim to know him?” The Inquisitor arched his brow and Ezra glared. “It’s true a disgusting amount of light radiates from you, but your master is dark, and you know it. Why do you think that is?”

“Because we have kriffing sleemos like you driving us crazy?” Ezra snapped before a scream raced out of his mouth and echoed around his small detention cell. Electricity coursed through his body in a sharp dose, just like the countless times it had before. When it faded, his body felt both numb and agonized. Ezra gritted his teeth. “He won’t fall.”

The Grand Inquisitor laughed.

“My dear boy. Surely you of all people can see he’s only a step away from falling. Even before his scythe came into my possession, I could see that myself.”

“But he hasn’t,” argued Ezra. “And he won’t. There’s light in him, and it won’t go out.”

A snort filled the air. “Let’s play a game.”

“Take your games and shove them up your—”

“An imagination game,” the Inquisitor said pleasantly, speaking over Ezra. “I imagine you’re quite bored here. Why don’t we stimulate your mind? Tell me, Ezra Bridger.” The Grand Inquisitor stopped before him again, his yellow eyes gleaming with malicious intent. “What do you think would happen to your master, if something happened to you?”

It took everything Ezra had to conceal his emotions on his face, let alone the Force. It didn’t stop him from feeling the ice that crept down his back every time he’d thought of this particular question himself. Because he knew the answer. He’d known the answer for years.

If something happened to Ezra, Kanan would fall, and there would be nothing to stop him.

A look at the Inquisitor was enough to convince Ezra the Pau’an knew the same answer.

“The dark side will take him.” The Grand Inquisitor leaned in again, and Ezra pressed back as far as he could. The Pau’an smirked. “You know it. I know it. His scythe knows it. Truly, boy, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Then kill me already,” Ezra bit out. “You do that and you’ll be the first one he’ll kill once I’m gone.”

That smirk shifted into a mock smile which grew across the darksider’s face. One someone would use if they thought a child was being adorable, but clearly wrong.

“Who said anything about killing you, Ezra?”

This time the electricity was so unexpected it left Ezra breathless, and in retrospect he was thankful he’d had his mouth closed. He would’ve bit his tongue in two if he hadn’t. But where the other, more recent shocks had been short, intense, bursts, this one was much longer. His perception of time shrunk as every nerve crackled alive with agony. Without breath or ability to scream, endless pain surrounding him. Ezra had no way to keep track of time. To remind himself it would end.

It kept surging. Endlessly surging. Mindlessly surging. The Grand Inquisitor would kill him this way, and if Kanan hadn’t trained him so well, he knew he’d have cracked.

Finally the pain ended, and the nausea that rolled around his stomach made him groan and whimper. Gloved fingers grabbed his face and he was forced to look into the Grand Inquisitor’s sick, yellow eyes.

“You see, Ezra Bridger. Your master is already on the brink of falling. I don’t need to kill you. I could, but I believe that would create something contrary to the Empire’s interests. Dark side though I believe he’d be, his rage would be turned on the Empire, and … well. I believe it would be better for all involved if he joined instead.”

“He’ll never join you,” Ezra grunted, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re insane.”

“He’ll join if you do, don’t you think?”

Ezra’s thoughts momentarily left him adrift — from the torture or the surprise, he wasn’t sure — and it took him longer than he was comfortable admitting to get them back in line.

“What? You’re crazier than I thought you were. What makes you think I’d join the thing that’s enslaved my planet, killed my parents, and tormented everyone I care about? What makes you think he’d do the same?”

“You know, for being the infamous Rider, I’m disappointed in your lack of vision.” Pivoting on his heel, the Inquisitor strode to the door and it slid open. A pair of stormtroopers entered.

Between them, hanging by her arms with her wrists bound behind her back, was Sabine.

Ezra hadn’t seen Sabine since they’d been locked away separately. He’d hoped the torment would be wholly on him — since he had received a great deal of attention from the Inquisitor — and they’d leave her alone.

It was clear they hadn’t. Her eye was black and swollen, her lip was split and he suspected she was as beaten up as he was. Her armor had been taken away, and the lone splash of color was her bright hair, and it was starting to look matted and badly tangled.

But her eyes — even the swollen one which could barely open — they still glowed with defiant fire, and as horrified by what they’d done to her as he was, as dire as their situation had become, seeing her defiance stoked the flagging fire in his own chest. He hadn’t realized he’d been flagging, but with her there, it was back and strong.

Even if it now warred with the icy fear growing within him as he realized where the Inquisitor was going with this.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ezra hissed, a black pit opening in his chest. The Grand Inquisitor gave him a pleasant smile.

“I thought you might like some company.” He nodded to the spot before him. “Put her there.”

The stormtroopers did as they were ordered, and left. It was all Ezra could do not to react. Not to snarl viciously as that black pit in his chest grew wider when the Grand Inquisitor reached down for Sabine.

When the Pau’an was close enough, Sabine spat in his face.

The amusement that had been on the Inquisitor’s face vanished, and his jaw tightened noticeably.

“Charming,” the Inquisitor muttered as he wiped the glob off with the back of his hand, before backhanding her with it. Sabine sailed back with a gasp, her back slamming hard against the floor, and Ezra saw red.

“Leave her alone!” Ezra shouted, straining against his restraints, but it was no use and the Inquisitor lifted her by the front of her shirt and threw her against another wall with a solid thud. Sabine groaned, but did little more than glare in response.

“You will break, young Jedi,” the Grand Inquisitor said as he studied Sabine. “She’ll help with that. And if she doesn’t make you fall, then I will hunt the Lasat you’ve been seen with. And the Twi’lek this scythe has been telling me about. And everyone you’ve ever loved, until you fall. Then your master will follow.”

“Don’t listen to him, Ezra,” Sabine grunted as she lifted her chin rebelliously, despite the threat to her life. “You’re stronger than that!”

With Sabine there, with the Grand Inquisitor now pulling Kanan’s scythe off his back, extending it out menacingly, with the threat to Zeb and Hera and Kanan and everyone hanging in the air … Ezra wasn’t so sure.

“You can’t feel it since you’re not a Force user, my dear,” the Inquisitor said, addressing Sabine. “But his fear is filling the Force. His anger.” Those yellow eyes flicked back and caught Ezra’s blue. “His hate. Those are all dark emotions. Emotions that could lead anyone to the dark side.”

“He’s not afraid of you,” Sabine snarled.

“Oh, but he is,” the Grand Inquisitor corrected. “And he’s even more afraid of what I’ll do to you. Telling, isn’t it? He must care about you a great deal.”

“We just work together sometimes,” Sabine lied. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then it’s no problem if I get rid of you,” the Imperial replied, lifting the scythe. A haze of heat made the air ripple around the blade. “No point in keeping you around, if that’s the case.”

Sabine’s eyes widened as the scythe cut through the air. The Force bloomed with icy fear, both his and Sabine’s. Ezra reached out with the Force instinctively, but it hardly moved. It was far away, as if beyond a wall because of the torture and whatever drugs the Inquisitor had been forcing into him for days. Helpless, he screamed.

“No!”

A pleased grin spread across the Pau’an’s lips as he glanced at Ezra, the momentum of the blade stopping in time so it only brushed against Sabine’s cheek. She hissed as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air before she flinched away.

“No, my young Jedi? She admits you don’t have any sort of meaningful relationship, and isn’t an edict of the Jedi one wherein you avoid creating attachments? Killing her shouldn’t even matter to you—”

The Grand Inquisitor’s voice was overshadowed by the sudden, unmistakable blaring of alarms.

The alarms rolled in waves through the comm-system, and the Grand Inquisitor paused, lifting the scythe from where it still posed a real threat to Sabine. Tension in Ezra dulled, the threat passing for the time being, and he and Sabine shared a quick look. A look which was equally bewildered and relieved.

What was going on?

Reluctant as he was, Ezra’s eyes flicked toward the Grand Inquisitor who was impatiently waiting on a report from the stormtrooper posted outside. But then Ezra felt the scythe warm, even from where he was. It warmed, no longer blazing like noxious fire ready to harm Sabine, but enticing like a campfire. Calmed and eager, as if pleased, and the Grand Inquisitor smiled maliciously.

He looked at Ezra with his unnerving yellow eyes, and the Jedi didn’t have to know what the scythe had somehow told the Inquisitor. Ezra knew already.

Kanan was here. Somehow, his master had figured out where he and Sabine had been taken.

And he was coming.

“Seems we’re about to have more company, my young friend. Someone I believe we’re all very eager to see.” The Grand Inquisitor’s eyes gleamed. “How about we take a small trip?”

Ezra shrieked as electricity coursed through his body again, lighting every nerve with higher voltage, before finally cutting out. His body went limp as his brain struggled to reorient itself and he felt the restraints snap open. Binders encircled his wrist and he fell to his knees painfully.

“Leave him alone!” Sabine yelled as she struggled from her position, and when Ezra’s eyes cleared he saw the Inquisitor was smiling at her.

“Be patient, my dear. I won’t forget about you while I’m gone, I assure you. When we come back, all of our attention will be on you.”

Then rough hands jerked Ezra up by his binders and he was hauled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aside from the torture, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I’d love to know what you thought of it! Pushy Rosie and rude Proxy were particularly fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed them. Also, sorry for the delay. A major plot hole brought the entire project to a screeching halt, and I was worried there for a moment that I was going to have to change the entire ending (but everything’s good, now. All systems are go). I also wanted to thank everyone who gave me their opinion on the rating of this fic. I’ve decided it’ll stay mature. There’s torture now too, after all.
> 
> Oh boy, a lot’s about to happen next chapter. Ezra facing the guy who killed his parents, Kanan facing the monster he created. Rosie on the rampage. The crew doing what they can to survive and keep their stupid Force-using counterparts alive. Next chapter (or chapters, depending on length. It might get split into two parts, we’ll see), is the climax. Start buckling in.
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me and my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/)  
> . I redid the theme and now along the left side is a status update for my fics to show where they are in the process, if you’re ever curious. Till next Friday!


	37. Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm back (again), and I'm ready to finish this story of mine. Here's the first part of the final battle. Turns out climaxes and endings of long stories like this are kinda tough, but I hope you'll enjoy what I have for you guys :]

This, Kanan was certain, wasn’t a mess.

It was a disaster. And frankly, he wasn’t sure how he was still alive. Let alone Rosie.

As he’d anticipated, the moment Rosie raged to find Ezra, all bets were off. His job had gone from finding Ezra to staying alive and keeping them safe. Finding Ezra was now Rosie’s job, and Kanan was starting to feel bad for any Imperial stupid enough to get in her way. In truth, he’d expected to fight harder, but when faced with a vicious nexu, it turned out many of the Imperials thought it wiser to turn rather than engage.

Especially once they realized someone was riding it, someone with almost preternatural aim with a blaster. Almost the moment troopers popped out to take a shot, Kanan had already taken them down with a bolt of his own. They fell like rocks, and those who survived this defense were then left for Rosie.

And Rosie was merciless, given her deep hatred for those who smelled or looked Imperial.

Kanan winced as Rosie wrapped a trooper in her tail and thrashed him between the walls before throwing him away. The nexu moved so fast, Kanan didn’t have time to see the body land. Not when she’d just burst through a pair of lift doors into an empty lift shaft and open air.

Kanan’s heart raced, but the nexu was as agile here as she would’ve been in any jungle, leaping to support beams and pouncing off walls as they descended rapidly into the bowels of the ship. He did what he could to help. Force shoved for added momentum; Force pulled when it looked like Rosie might fall short. When a door opened and blaster fire began sailing their way, he spared a hand to drag the blaster down into the shaft.

One trooper hadn’t let go in time. His cry echoed behind him as he vanished into the darkness below.

Rosie screeched, and the sound in the tight confines of the shaft ricocheted in his ears, threatening to disorient him. Through the noise, however, he could hear something move. A lift, and it was descending. Descending toward them.

Kanan balked and focused on the Force bond.

“Get us out of here!”

Rosie hissed before leaping off a beam and shoving off the opposite wall. The lift was getting closer, and the skin between Kanan’s shoulder blades began to tingle with the tension. A pair of lift doors were two floors down, and he sensed this was where the nexu was headed.

With the growing speed of the lift above threatening to outrun them, they didn’t have much time left.

Reaching out in the Force, Kanan roared and wrenched the doors open just as Rosie sprang with a fierce yowl, and they rushed through just as the lift whispered past behind them. Kanan released the breath he’d been holding, then sucked in another as he threw himself forward over Rosie’s head to avoid a bolt of blaster fire. The suddenness of the attack threw Rosie back into her rampage, and she lunged forward again.

Sometimes, Kanan was thankful for his unique Force sight. He saw much more than the average person did, sure, but he couldn’t see every visually saturated detail possible. Like the mess Rosie was making. He was aware of it in a big picture sort of way, while at the same time blissfully unaware of the full … extent.

Kanan’s comlink chimed, and he was more than happy to answer.

“Found Sabine,” Zeb’s voice rumbled through the comlink. “She’s in rough shape, but she’ll be fine.”

“And Ezra?” Kanan demanded, heart thudding in his chest.

“Not here.” Sabine’s voice came through next, and Kanan frowned. Usually, her voice was confident and clear, like a brilliant piece of crystal. Her voice was hoarse and rough now, a growl closer to Zeb’s than it should ever be. “The Grand Inquisitor took him. I don’t know where.”

In the Force, he felt Rosie’s intention sharpen, strengthen as she snarled, and Kanan could feel it now too. Light in the Force, strong and familiar. Ezra was nearby.

But so was the sweltering heat of the Grand Inquisitor. And the insidious warmth of his scythe.

Kanan swallowed before he thumbed the comlink. “Scratch that, we know where he is. I’ll get him. You two get the hell out of here. We’ll find our own way out.”

“You can’t be serious! If that Red Blade’s got Ezra, he knows you’re coming,” Zeb said. “You have to know this is a trap!”

“Get to safety!” Kanan said, ignoring the warning. “Like I said, I’ll get Ezra. Just go!”

“You can’t order us around!” Zeb snapped. “Don’t be stupid, Kanan—!”

A shot of alarm raced through the Force an instant before Kanan jerked out of the way of a bolt of deadly light. It missed him, but the blaster bolt scraped the comlink in his hand. Heat flashed through it, and reflexively he dropped the device and shook his hand to avoid a burn. The comlink clattered to the ground sizzling, but before he could recover it, Rosie reared.

Kanan latched onto her as she shot forward, and he gritted his teeth against the displeasure now building in his chest at having lost communication with Hera and the rest of the crew. Not good, but he couldn’t waste time thinking about that now. He had to content himself with the fact that Sabine, at least, had been found and was safe. Hopefully, they’d do the smart thing and get off this ship while they could.

He didn’t think Hera would forgive him if he got her crew killed.

A pair of smart stormtroopers dove out of the way as Rosie ran past, but now that they were closer to Ezra’s Force presence, he noticed there weren’t as many guards as there had been. They charged past a few more, but those troopers were holding back as if deliberately avoiding engagement.

Which he sensed didn’t bode well for them.

Rosie whipped around a corner before digging her nails into the ground to slow their momentum, and Kanan clung to her as she came to a jagged halt. Before them was a doorway.

And on the other side, they could both feel Ezra and the Inquisitor.

“Easy, girl,” Kanan said, urging patience and calm into the Force bond. “Gotta stay calm for Ezra’s sake.”

Rosie bristled before prowling forward with growing speed. Kanan reached in the Force to activate the door, and it slid open as she burst through.

The room was massive, but then, Kanan supposed it should be, given that it housed the reactor core. Catwalks crisscrossed the air in layers above and below them, and the energy surging out from the core itself lit the Force off to his left. Below on the ground level and everywhere around the room was empty. No one stood with blasters leveled at them. No one called in orders or commands or requests for reinforcements.

Then again, Kanan couldn’t exactly say he was surprised.

Across the catwalk the Grand Inquisitor stood waiting, and in his hold, limp and in binders, was Ezra.

Kanan wasn’t sure whose desire or rage was greater, his or Rosie’s — not that she gave him much of a chance to decide. One moment she was in alliance with Kanan. The next, she’d scented Ezra in the air, his agony in the Force, and all intelligible beastly thoughts were lost to pure animal fury.

Reacting instinctively, Kanan leapt off Rosie as he shouted her name, but the nexu ignored him. Her eyes were locked on Ezra and the Grand Inquisitor as she charged, and even as Kanan struggled to reconnect with the beast, it was no use. Quick as lightning, the Inquisitor reached for his lightsaber resting on his hip and ignited it, the blaze of power singing in the air.

From where Kanan was he heard Ezra yell, trying to warn her off, but Rosie was beyond comprehension. She kept going despite the red blade — maybe even in spite of it — snarling viciously. But whereas that tactic had worked against the stormtroopers they’d encountered so far, the Inquisitor only smirked.

With one hand secure on Ezra, he lifted the blade and waited, and in the Force Kanan could feel what would happen next if Rosie continued as she did, blindly intent on getting to her boy. Kanan heaved, and just as the Imperial slashed, Kanan used the Force to trip her up.

Rosie screamed, but the misstep ensured the blade only sliced a handful of quills and grazed her back instead of searing into her skull. The momentum he’d used to save her life caused the bulk of her weight to topple over the edge of the catwalk and, clawing at the air as her tail whipped behind her, she fell over. Ezra cried out, and a moment later a heavy thump came from below. In the Force, Kanan saw Rosie’s body heavy and limp, but the flare of life still glowed in her.

Dazed or unconscious, he wasn’t sure, but at least she was still alive.

When the Grand Inquisitor turned to him — deactivating his lightsaber and depositing it back on his hip while the pleased smirk on his lips never left his face — Kanan forced his mind back to the situation at hand. Right now, Rosie had to wait.

Ezra was the primary concern.

“Ah. You’ve finally arrived,” the Grand Inquisitor said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Let him go,” Kanan said, ice in his voice as he clenched the blaster tight in his hand.

“Now, why would I do that? This young man and I have been reacquainting ourselves since he’s been on board. We’ve met before. I happened to know his parents.”

Ezra snarled, the Force in him flickering violent and dark. The Pau’an smiled before his eyes turned toward Kanan’s. “But you already know that, don’t you? Kanan Jarrus?” His smile widened. “Caleb Dume.”

The sound of his original name rolling off the Inquisitor’s tongue made Kanan’s stomach drop and the blood in his veins cool. Although he’d known it was likely, even with his scythe whispering what it knew into the darksider’s ears, he’d hoped that somehow he’d maintain his anonymity. That, impossible as he’d known it would be, after this mess was over — if they got out of this mess — he might be able to vanish back into the galaxy. Start over. The Empire still wouldn’t be able to find him.

But they had his name now, both of them. And they also knew he was blind and a Force user. His stupid pipe-dream was gone.

But despite his discomfort, he was glad of it. There were more important things to be focusing on now than keeping his secrets guarded.

“Let him go, Inquisitor,” Kanan said, voice hard. “Don’t make me say it again.”

The Grand Inquisitor chuckled before drawing Ezra up in front of him. “I think not. I have plans for this boy. Just as I have plans for you.”

“You can take your plans and shove them up your—”

“I see where he gets it from,” the Grand Inquisitor said blandly. “But I suppose I should take that as a sign. You’re both quite attached to each other. You, I suppose I could understand. You’ve long since strayed from the Jedi path, Kanan Jarrus. You’re so dark, it’s hard to believe you haven’t fallen yet. But Ezra Bridger?”

Another bout of ice pooled in Kanan’s stomach as the Imperial said Ezra’s full name.

“He’s so light, it’s almost sickening.” The Inquisitor sniffed. “It’s remarkable if you think about it. That someone so dark could raise someone so light? I imagine it’s because he’s so light that you haven’t fallen yet. But can you feel it?”

The Grand Inquisitor shook Ezra violently by the binders, and the motion made Ezra grimace in pain though he didn’t cry out. But then, Ezra didn’t need to. Kanan knew exactly what the Grand Inquisitor was talking about.

In that moment when he’d inflicted pain on Ezra, the light that spilled from the boy wavered. Shadowed, just slightly.

It made Kanan bristle, and even from across the room he could feel his scythe react. Though he’d felt its presence, knew it would be with the darksider, the feel of it in the Force responding to him ….

Kanan’s mind floundered as he stared at the dark weapon he’d made, the thing steadily ruining his life, and felt drawn to it. Like a siren’s call, he stared at the slim metal transfixed. Sick warmth stretched toward him, urging him closer, and he was hit with a desire, a need to reach out for it. To touch it.

Deep down, Kanan knew that if he summoned it in the Force, it would abandon the Inquisitor. It would fly from the Pau’an’s back and straight into his palm. It would nestle there like an abandoned tooka returned home, swelling around him in welcome. With it there, he could finally empty himself. Clear his mind. Strengthen his hold in the Force — everything would become so _clear_. So easy. With it, he could save Ezra. End the Inquisitor. Kill everyone on this ship. Take the ship and use it to destroy the other ships, and whatever lay on the planet below, and—!

His hand was already lifting before he realized he’d moved.

“Kanan, no!”

As if dunked in ice water, Kanan drew a tight breath at the sound of Ezra’s desperate voice and clenched his fist against the insidious warmth dragging at his control. The scythe reacted in turn, the warmth turning inferno with rage.

The Pau’an eyed it, then eyed him with a lift of his brow, interest unmistakable.

“I must say. It’s a fine weapon, you know. Powerful. Strong. Filled with so much hate, and malice, and pain.” He shrugged. “With it, you could stop me. With it, you could save your precious Padawan.”

Kanan wished his hearing wasn’t so acute because he couldn’t quite keep the words out of his mind. Because the Inquisitor was right. He could. With it, he could kill the darksider. With it, he could save Ezra.

But he also knew the moment he touched that blade, it would take him over again. It had had a taste of freedom riding his body when last he’d had it, and Kanan could still remember his Shade’s desire. Its pride. Its lusts, once it had achieved freedom. It would try again to overpower Kanan, try at every opportunity, and when faced with the threat of Ezra’s death and the Grand Inquisitor … Kanan wasn’t sure it would take a whole lot to do it.

The Grand Inquisitor pulled the blade free from the holster on his back before locking it into its extended position, and Kanan hated the sight of it. Hated that it allowed this darksider to handle it as if it was harmless, willingly working in tandem with the Imperial like a deadly team.

“I’m sure you want it back.”

“No, Kanan!” Ezra grunted, but the Inquisitor jerked Ezra’s arms again hard enough to force out a cry of agony.

“You’ll have to pardon his behavior. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been doing a bit of training of my own?” The Grand Inquisitor’s smug pride rolled in the Force like putrid oil. In one hand, he held Ezra. In the other, he held Kanan’s scythe. The Pau’an smirked.

Kanan seethed.

“You’ll regret doing that.”

“I really don’t think so, but let’s not talk about children. I have a proposition for you. How about this. You join the dark side. I’ll give you your little toy back, and I’ll even let your Padawan go. I believe that’s more than fair.”

The gleam in the nonhuman’s eyes wasn’t needed to know why the deal was too good to be true. The moment Kanan touched the scythe and was taken over, the Inquisitor might let Ezra go, but only because the Shade would likely kill the boy instead. The deal was rigged.

And Kanan wasn’t sure how he was supposed to save Ezra while avoiding his scythe at the same time.

“No?” the nonhuman asked when Kanan had remained silent too long. “I hadn’t wanted it to turn this way, but things rarely go according to plan. How about this, then?”

To Kanan’s horror, he watched as the Grand Inquisitor lifted a hand, and Ezra rose with it. His bound wrists clawed at his throat as the darksider Force choked his apprentice. Panic warred with the rage surging in his blood as he watched this unfold before his eyes. Ezra captured and weak, beaten from torture Kanan hadn’t been able to protect him from or prevent. Ezra slowly choking as he watched helplessly.

What was he going to do? Attack the Grand Inquisitor, and risk Ezra choking to death? Rescue Ezra, but risk the scythe touching him, overtaking him, consuming him again? Risk freeing it?

Staring at the scythe and Ezra at risk of dying before his eyes, Kanan made his decision.

He dropped his blaster and listened to it clatter to the ground before he slowly began advancing. The Grand Inquisitor smiled.

“Just as I’d thought. You would do anything to save him. Even submit to the dark side.”

“No, Kanan!” Ezra gasped, eyes wild as his legs kicked weakly in the air. “Don’t—!”

“Ah-ah,” the Imperial chided, hand squeezing and causing Ezra to squirm desperately. “Sorry, Padawan. The masters are having a conversation that doesn’t concern you.”

“Stop it!” Kanan roared, his control hanging by a thread. “Let him go!”

“I don’t think you want me to let him go just yet,” the Inquisitor said, nodding his head over the edge. “Look where I might drop him.”

Over the reactor core. If he did drop the boy, Kanan might be able to save Ezra, but not in time to also fend off the Inquisitor.

Or his scythe.

But … but maybe he could hold his scythe off long enough to buy Ezra time to get out? To kill the Inquisitor, and get him and Rosie away. Maybe he’d be able to hold on just long enough for that before his scythe consumed him.

He stepped before the Grand Inquisitor, helpless rage building in his body at this impossible situation. The scythe was the last thing he wanted. Its presence would drag him into darkness, sooner or later.

But it was the only thing which might save Ezra’s life.

“Put him down,” Kanan gritted out. “Safely.”

“It would be my pleasure,” the Imperial said pleasantly, and with a lazy flick of his hand, Ezra flew forward past Kanan toward where he’d entered the room. His body thudded, and he groaned before rolling to a stop. Kanan glared at the Imperial who only smiled back. This close, the scythe was practically singing to him, its warmth slipping out like a soothing touch. Leaching away his anger in a way which startled him and made his heart clench with dread. The taste of relief was already spreading through his body, emptying him out, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold it back.

As a matter of fact, now that he was faced with his monster, he was positive he wouldn’t be able to hold it back at all.

Just as his trembling hand reached out for the slim metal as if magnetized, a shriek and the sound of rapid thumps on the catwalk broke the strange spell on him. The next instant Rosie appeared, tail whipping around and claws razor sharp and gleaming.

They dove, but the nexu managed to catch the Inquisitor about the waist and knocked him off the catwalk and onto one below. The Pau’an scowled and raised the scythe, but Rosie was already on him, teeth and quills deadly weapons the nonhuman was struggling to avoid.

As if freed, Kanan’s control returned, and with Rosie distracting the Inquisitor, Kanan ran to his apprentice. Ezra lay gasping where he’d dropped like a sack of rocks, and Kanan slammed his knees into the floor painfully before he pulled Ezra up against him. Worry flooded his mind. From across the way, he’d been able to tell his apprentice had been beaten, but he hadn’t been able to divine the full extent.

Bruises covered Ezra’s body, and there was no ignoring the evidence of shock-torture. This close, he could also feel why Ezra hadn’t resisted in the Force. Part of it was due to fatigue and the stress his body and mind had endured, but Kanan suspected some sort of drug was dragging the boy down. Making the connection more difficult to establish.

Not good.

“Ezra?” Kanan said, running a hand quickly over the boy’s hair and watching as Ezra’s eyes fluttered weakly. “Ezra, come on. It’s me. I’m here.”

Ezra groaned before he gave a few weak coughs.

“Kanan,” Ezra wheezed. “He’s trying to get you to fall. He’s trying to use me to get to you. You have … have to run. Save everyone else. You have to.”

Ezra coughed again and began attempting to push himself up and away from Kanan. Leave so that Kanan could save himself. Leave so that Kanan could run.

Kanan froze.

 _Run_. It was the only word he could hear, and coming from Ezra’s mouth, from someone he loved so much … he felt like Caleb Dume again. Like the boy from another life who’d heard that very word, that  _hated_  word … and lost. Run had been the last word of Master Billaba. Run had been the last word of the old Miraluka, Rika. Though it hadn’t been the last word of Janus Kasmir or Okadiah, it had been the word which had led to the death of Kasmir, and which had struck a chord with old man Oke. Now Ezra was telling him that word too.

Run.

That word was the word of death. Every time someone he loved told him that word,  _every time_ , they died. Even after so many years, his muscles tensed in preparation for the sprint as if conditioned to react to the word. Maybe he was. His heart pounded as it had every time, and the dread was overwhelming, even as he stared at the tortured form of the most important person in his life.

Run.

Run, like the coward he was. Run, and let those he loved save him again and again with their lives. Kanan’s fists tightened, the leather of his fingerless gloves creaking as he felt the fear and guilt and dread rip through him like a violent storm, urging him to do as he was told. Do as he’d done every other time.

But the longer he knelt there, stewing in the panic of his past … the longer he realized he wasn’t running.

With a start, Kanan felt as if he’d broken through to the surface of water, and it was as if all those terrible and dark emotions dropped out of him at the same time as the Force curled around him. Ezra had told him to run, and he hadn’t.

He’d stayed.

In a flash, Kanan remembered everything he’d experienced in the Jedi temple, and more of the bonds tying him to his past broke. Kanan wasn’t weak anymore, or a child. He wasn’t Caleb Dume, and he’d made peace with that version of himself, along with the mistakes made there. He had to grow and move forward from the fear and pains of the past, and that meant he wouldn’t run again.

A tight part of him he’d never noticed before settled, and it was as if he’d found a balancing point within himself. Reality relaxed, and his mind eased.

Ezra was still struggling to move away, but as Kanan took a long, ragged breath, he stilled the boy’s movements with a firm hand.

“No, Ezra,” Kanan said. “I’m not running. Not from this. Not from you.”

Panic flared in the Force. “But Kanan—”

“I’m not going to fall,” Kanan promised as he shifted Ezra to the side so he could stand. In the Force, he watched Rosie launch another attack, but this time the Inquisitor caught her and threw her to the other side of the catwalk with enough force to daze her again. The Grand Inquisitor Force leapt back up to their catwalk, and as he did Kanan reached into the pouch on his belt to withdraw two objects, the pieces of his lightsaber.

Kanan straightened and with smooth motions he joined the two pieces. His lightsaber fit in the palm of his hand as if it had never left. As if he’d used it every day of his life.

Within, his kyber crystal sang a little louder for him, and though a part of him felt unworthy, the greater part was relieved.

“Wait here,” Kanan told Ezra as he advanced on the Grand Inquisitor, mind made up. “I’ll be right back.”

A hand latched onto his boot. “But Kanan—!”

“Trust me.”

He stared at the boy he’d raised, held Ezra’s eyes with his blind ones. In his mind, he remembered the way Ezra looked when he’d seen him in the temple. Black hair. Brilliant blue eyes. Defiant. Breathtakingly alive.

It was too early to give up on that, and as Ezra’s master, and as his surrogate parent, it was his job — and his pleasure — to make sure the boy survived to become something light. Something great. No matter what.

The thought filled his chest with emotion, and for the first time in years, he found the strength to put his thumb on the activation switch of his lightsaber. With a snap-hiss he thumbed his lightsaber on for the first time in over a decade.

“Ah,” the Grand Inquisitor said in mock amusement. “You fancy yourself a Jedi again?”

Kanan’s focus narrowed on the darksider who stood before him wielding his own scythe like a back-handed joke. He raised his old lightsaber, ready.

“I don’t know about that,” Kanan said as he opened himself to the Force. “But I do know one thing.”

“And pray tell, what is that?”

Kanan took a deep, calming breath before he said with conviction, “I’m no Sith either.”

Then Kanan attacked, his lightsaber nothing but a blur of light.

* * *

 

Ezra wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming. Kanan was here, and he was mask-less and him. Rosie was here. They’d come to save him and were fighting the Grand Inquisitor.

This had to be a hallucination. There was no way any of this was real.

But if this was a dream, it was too lifelike. And it wasn’t stopping.

Blearily, Ezra watched Kanan attack the Grand Inquisitor, though all he could perceive in his battered state was little more than shapes and shadows and a brilliant glow of blue light. That more than anything made him sure he had to be dreaming, because never in his life had Ezra seen Kanan wield a lightsaber. It was always the training sabers in the temple, or blasters, or the scythe. He wouldn’t even use Ezra’s lightsaber, at least not past firing it as a blaster.

Now though, his master was using a lightsaber Ezra had only ever seen hidden away in Kanan’s room, a dusty, forgotten relic he hadn’t been sure worked anymore. But it blazed now, bright and unrelenting, and Kanan was using it to knock back and evade his scythe, protecting Ezra and Rosie as he fought to take down the Grand Inquisitor.

A filmy waft of will tugged at Ezra’s bones. He wanted to get up. He wanted to help his master because as valiantly as Kanan was fighting, the odds weren’t in his favor. Somehow, Ezra needed to get out there. He needed to help. But the drugs and the torture, they dragged him down, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open, let alone force his body into a trembling crouch.

Ezra gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, attempting to center himself. To find the Force, no matter how distant it felt to him now. It wasn’t entirely gone, he could still feel it like an undercurrent, but it was so far away.

But he needed to help. Ezra needed to do  _something_.

Alarm shot through Ezra, a strange sensation because for once it wasn’t caused by the familiar feel of the Force rising to alert him of a coming threat, but by nothing more than physical awareness. Heavy plodding footsteps rounded the corner behind him, and to his shock Zeb was there, half-carrying a beaten Sabine.

Ezra’s body turned weak at the sight of them, relief flooding it to see Sabine safe, even if the situation itself left a whole lot to be desired. After all, Sabine might be fine, and Zeb and Kanan and Rosie might be here, but that didn’t mean the threat of the Grand Inquisitor, the scythe, and the Imperial Star Destroyer they were on weren’t still raging problems.

“Kid!”

Zeb set Sabine down on weak legs as she pulled out her blasters to guard them, and the Lasat tugged Ezra up and further away from the fight behind them. Large clawed hands quickly checked him over.

“See they got you pretty good,” Zeb joked, though the growl of his voice told him he found nothing about their situation amusing. A light flashed across Ezra’s eyes and Ezra flinched, blinking the shine out of his gaze. “Drugged you up too. We need to get you out of here.”

“No,” Ezra said, stumbling over his words as he tried to sit up and push Zeb away. “Kanan needs help.”

“Looks like he’s doing fine to me,” Zeb replied, voice unrelenting as he tightened his hold on Ezra. “Our job right now is getting out of here, and that’s what I’m going to make sure happens!”

Sabine shouted, “Zeb, move!”

Vertigo swarmed Ezra’s senses as Zeb threw them to the side, rolling them in a move that jostled his queasy stomach and made his vision blur with the violet of Zeb’s fur. A sharp clang was the only thing which cut through his perception, and the familiarity of the sound grounded him.

The scythe.

Heat reached out to him, but Zeb was already scrambling away toward Sabine with Ezra tight against his chest. When the movement stopped, Ezra struggled against Zeb, trying to make the Lasat let him go because he  _had_  to get to Kanan.

“Stop moving, kid!”

“I need to help Kanan,” he said, words slightly slurred. Ezra groaned as his bodily perception vanished for a moment as if he’d been dropped into a void, and he forced himself to breathe past it. Focus on the expansion in his lungs so he could find awareness of his body again.

“Kid, you can’t help anyone in the state you’re in,” Zeb’s gruff voice hissed in his ear. “Hera’s outside waiting for us while the rebels are distracting everyone. We need to leave now, and—!”

A tiny prick of pain surrounded by sudden pressure was the only warning Ezra got before the fatigue, the wooziness, the weakness plaguing his body abruptly lifted and replaced itself with growing energy. Clarity. Focus. With a gasp, Ezra lurched, and he felt like he was back to himself again, his body his own and reachable. The Force was much closer than it had been an instant ago, as if the wall barring him from it had dropped.

“Sabine!” chided Zeb, and they watched the beaten Mandalorian drop a medical injector on the ground.

“Stim-shot,” she said before she slapped Ezra’s lightsaber pistol into his hands once he shoved out of Zeb’s arms to his feet. “Found a couple near our weapons and my armor in a medpac.”

“Ashla help us, I told you not to use them!” Zeb said as he ran a palm over his face. “You may feel fine now, but when those wear off—”

“I’d say we have bigger problems,” Sabine said, eyes hard no matter the swellings and bruises marring her face. “Let’s just focus on getting everyone out, and you know Hera means everyone. Kanan needs help, and we can’t leave without him and Rosie. We’ll deal with what happens later if we’re still alive.”

“You don’t understand, those won’t last long! You’re fine now, but—”

“I don’t care,” Ezra said as he thumbed on his lightsaber. “Give me and Kanan cover. With the both of us together, hopefully this won’t take long.”

Zeb called after him, but with the renewed energy provided by the stim coursing in his blood, Ezra was already sprinting and leaping into the air. He screamed furiously before bringing his lightsaber down hard on the scythe, now drawn back into the Grand Inquisitor’s grasp. The force of his blow caused the Imperial to slip back an inch or two, and a vindictive flicker of heat flared in Ezra’s chest.

“Ezra?” Kanan said, shocked but recovered quickly enough to re-angle his lightsaber for a stab at the Inquisitor. The nonhuman blocked it and shoved Ezra off with a scowl before twirling the scythe in swifter arc's, blurring the air black with the momentum. He and Kanan took a step back, adopting defensive postures. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”

“No, Kanan! I’m not leaving you!”

“Ezra—!” A Force shove broke Kanan’s words, causing him to stumble back as the Imperial regarded them both.

“Feeling recovered, Apprentice?” the Grand Inquisitor asked, his scowl morphing into an ugly smirk. “Impressive, and perhaps not as unappreciated as originally anticipated. You both have a leading role in causing the other to fall. It’s probably best if it’s done together and in person.”

“Shut up!” Ezra snarled, gripping his lightsaber tightly between his hands. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to Kanan and Sabine. For what you did to my parents!”

“You’ll make me pay? Is that any way for a Jedi to speak?”

“Maybe not a Jedi,” Kanan said, cutting him off, “but I can. Ezra, zeta-seven.”

Hearing the plan, Ezra reacted automatically and darted to the side as Kanan lunged, distracting the Pau’an long enough for Ezra to draw his lightsaber up across the Grand Inquisitor’s back. He missed as the tall nonhuman dodged, but that only pushed the Inquisitor into Kanan’s attack range and soon the air was nothing but a blaze of humming light and the howl of metal as it sliced through space.

It was unlike anything Ezra had ever experienced. True, he’d been in duels with Kanan using the practice sabers, but as he’d expected, Kanan had been holding back. Fighting together with him now, both equipped with deadly lightsabers, matching battle rhythms, and tuned to the Force, it was a deadly dance Ezra felt he was learning on the spot despite having fought alongside his master for years.

Where Ezra was swift with his lightsaber, Kanan was a juggernaut. Each blow pounded into the Inquisitor, and the recoil was exactly what Ezra needed to find an opening and attack. Usually, they carried out this maneuver with the scythe instead, but with another lightsaber? Ezra was having some difficulty keeping track of the light. Two lightsabers burning a brilliant blue was as distracting as it was mesmerizing. Soon he’d forced his eyes to track the black of the scythe instead of the second blade giving the Pau’an hell.

And between their combined assault, they were wearing the darksider down. The Grand Inquisitor was completely on the defensive, dodging and blocking at a rate that made the air sang with the rapid movement of the metal in his hands. A grimace formed on the Pau’an’s lips as they continued the barrage, and he showed his teeth in a vicious sneer when Ezra’s lightsaber grazed up the side of his torso.

“Enough!” the Grand Inquisitor said, and the Force swelled violently with his will as he shoved them both back. Ezra caught himself in the air, and flipped to a landing, kneeling to catch his breath while Kanan dug his saber into the catwalk to ground himself, leaving a bright orange trail of melted metal after him.

“What? Can’t take the heat?” Kanan said as he climbed to his feet, lightsaber held at the low-ready, body loose and waiting. “Thought you wanted us here. Don’t like the way we play?”

“Not so tough now, are you?” said Ezra, forcing his body upright even as it voiced its aches and pains. Now that he was moving, the stim had worked through his body entirely, and he felt ready for battle. But there was a telling edge of fatigue which lined his muscles, warning him he didn’t have forever before it wore off.

Standing beside Kanan, ready for the Inquisitor to come at them again, they brought their lightsabers up to full guard. Suddenly the scythe in the Imperial’s hands swelled with heat, leaking a steady flood which filled the space across from them with darkness and malice.

An eerie, disembodied voice whispered through the air, and ice raced down Ezra’s spine.

“How about we even the odds?”

Before their eyes, Ezra watched in disbelief as a thickening mist of shadow began slipping out of the black metal. But unlike ordinary mist, which would spread through the air and disperse, this mist stayed in one place. Condensed. Second by second the transparency in the air faded as a form took shape. Tall. Broad. Unmistakably familiar.

The shadowed doppelganger of Kanan opened its eyes, and terrible red light filled them.

It grinned.

Behind it, the Grand Inquisitor reached for his lightsaber and ignited it. Twin beams of red streamed out both ends as a smirk pulled at his lips at the tides turning. Beside Ezra, Kanan tensed.

“Go, Ezra,” his master muttered, body tense. “Go with the others and leave, now!”

Ezra stayed right where he was, eyes locked on the threats before them. “I’m not going anywhere, Master.”

“And we wouldn’t want him to go anywhere,” the Grand Inquisitor put in. “We’re not done here, are we Ezra?”

“Take the brat,” the shadow said as it finished solidifying. An opaque hand curled around the length of the scythe’s shaft. Ezra half-expected its hand to slip past, somehow intangible enough it wouldn’t be able to hold onto anything, but the scythe lifted in its palm. With practiced ease, it twirled the metal around itself. A shadow thing with a dark weapon.

It was almost beautiful, in a terrifying way.

It looked up at Kanan, a shadow-double full of malice and rage. “His master and I have some business we need to take care of. Have fun playing with your toy.”

“Ezra—!”

Kanan’s voice was cut off as he shoved Ezra back and blocked the shadow’s attack with his lightsaber. With their blades crossed like they were, his master facing his dark doppelganger, a sneer of determination to match a grin of triumph, they looked like a horrible reflection brought to life. Each struggling for dominance.

And with dread, after everything that had happened, Ezra wasn’t sure who would win that duel.

He needed to go there, now. Kanan would need him to fight his darker side, but before he could cross the distance, the Force flared with alarm at the same instant Zeb and Sabine shouted. Instead, he ducked and rolled in time to avoid the screaming whirl of the Grand Inquisitor’s lightsaber as it whipped past where he’d been.

Ezra sprung to his feet, blade raised and eyes glaring as the darksider summoned his lightsaber back to his hand. Yellow eyes gleamed where they held his.

“You should focus, Apprentice. Your attention would serve you best here unless you’d prefer to die.”

The heat of that red blade had blazed too close for comfort, and Ezra was sure if he hadn’t been fast enough to dodge that last attack, he’d have lost hair. If his reflexes weren’t so ingrained, he’d have lost an ear.

He did, however, lose sight of Kanan because the Grand Inquisitor was right. Kanan would have to fight that monster on his own for now until Ezra or the others could get to him. Right now, Ezra had his own battles to fight.

And he found he was a little eager because the scythe might be Kanan’s demon, but the Grand Inquisitor? It was because of him that Ezra had lost his family. His first home. That he was at risk of losing his second family and second home, and the man who’d become his second father.

The burn of anger in his chest egged Ezra on. Here and now, he could stop this man. For Kanan and the crew. For everyone.

For himself, and his parents.

“You’re right,” Ezra said, eyes narrowed as he adjusted his posture, preparing to attack. “You’re going to regret this. You never should’ve captured me.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” the Pau’an said with a grim smile. “But it’ll be a pleasure teaching you otherwise.”

They attacked each other, and their lightsaber’s sparked as they clashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER! Like I said above, this is the first part of the climax and there's more to come. Luckily, the second part has already been drafted and will be out this Friday after edits are done. Then it's just a matter of drafting the final major chapter, editing it, then editing the epilogue and we're all done!
> 
> AHHHHH I'M EXCITED I HOPE YOU'RE AS EXCITED AS I AM TOO AHHHHHHHHHH!
> 
> You can follow me and my stories here on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). I'd love to hear from you!


	38. Tribulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The climax at last. Buckle in friends, here we go! I hope you enjoy!

Hera, along with Ahsoka’s rebel support, had begun their attack on the Star Destroyers hanging over Mustafar and as Hera wove the  _Ghost_  between volleys of light and around TIE fighters, she struggled not to let her worry get the better of her. A quick report from Zeb earlier had alleviated some of her anxiety, particularly when she’d heard Sabine’s voice for herself, rough but blessedly familiar and alive.

But then the Lasat had told her that Ezra was somewhere else on the ship, and Kanan had gone after him. And not long after that, he’d commed in to inform her they’d found Ezra and Kanan, but now both were locked in combat with the Grand Inquisitor and the shadow in Kanan’s scythe.

It was a worst-case scenario, one which would only get worse with every second that slipped by and allowed more Imperial reinforcements to arrive and counter her and Ahsoka’s efforts.

She and the rebels couldn’t keep this up long. If things got much worse out here she knew Fulcrum would order a retreat, and what would Hera do then? There was nothing worse than feeling useless when the people she cared about were on that ship fighting for their lives without her, even if she fought a deadly battle of her own.

“Any word on your crew, Hera?”

Hera gritted her teeth and shot a careful stream of bolts, causing a TIE in her path to explode. She spiraled out of the way of the debris before locking onto another starfighter.

“They’re still stuck in there,” she told Ahsoka through the comm, wishing she had better news. “We need to buy them more time.”

“They need to hurry,” Fulcrum told her, the Togruta’s calm voice slightly strained. “We can’t keep this up.”

“I know,” Hera said, heart racing as she shot down another TIE and wished they’d stop coming. That they’d stop flooding the space around them and making the situation that much worse and stealing what precious time her people needed to get out. “I know.”

“More Imperial reinforcements incoming, Captain,” AP-5 told her, and she cursed and jerked the  _Ghost_  to the side to avoid blaster fire, though not entirely. Her ship shuddered even as the shields held, but now the barrage was more intense, and her injured shoulder ached from all the stress she was putting it through as she pushed the  _Ghost_  hard.

“Kriffing damn it!” Hera growled as she took another pair of TIEs out of commission before her gaze flicked to the Star Destroyer everyone was on. She said a tiny, desperate prayer. “Hurry up, all of you!”

The Star Destroyer slipped from view and replaced itself with more chaos. Hera hoped whatever mess was going on with everyone inside, they were getting themselves out of it. Because at this rate they wouldn’t have the backup they’d need to get out. Ahsoka would call the retreat.

And with everyone she cared about still on board that destroyer, Hera knew the last thing she’d do was leave without them.

* * *

 

Nothing about this situation was turning out the way Kanan needed it to, but he didn’t have time to spare for thinking about how he could fix it.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and dodged, keeping his defense up as the Shade pounded the scythe against his blade relentlessly in an effort to wear him down or force him to drop his guard, whichever came first.

It wasn’t easy, given the tendency of his mind to drift toward Ezra. He was down there with the Inquisitor, fighting for his life and Kanan couldn’t even offer a Force-assist of any kind with his own combat weighing heavily on him. His Force sight had narrowed to the fight. He only knew Ezra was still on his feet and still fighting from the sound of the lightsabers clashing below.

It didn’t help that, this close and fighting it face-to-face, the tantalizing, heady draw of heat was tugging at his edges. Weakening him. Promising he could stop if he simply gave up and let the scythe in. He wouldn’t have to fight anymore, at least not alone. With it, he’d find peace and clarity. With it, he would be fine again.

But the wicked grin planted on the Shade’s shadowed face lit its eyes in the Force and told him it was nothing but a ruse. A false promise meant to break him down and make him weak. To slide past his defenses and take root. Never let him go again.

He hated the part of him which craved that weakness, and to spite it he gripped his lightsaber tighter in his fists, fighting against the seductive draw with a snarl.

“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that,” the Shade crooned when their blades crossed, Kanan’s muscles shaking with the tension. “I know your heart, Kanan. And it’s okay. We can stop this. You can stop, and I will help you find that peace you’ve craved for so long.”

“You’ll kill everyone,” Kanan grunted, mind racing for a way to defeat this monster which was destroying his life and hurting the people he cared about. He needed to get back to Ezra and take out the Inquisitor before the Pau’an did something irreversible. Something which would cause his apprentice to darken and fall.

If he didn’t fall first.

“But you already do that well enough on your own.” The Shade’s heat swelled around Kanan, blanketing his mind. Another wave of weakness attempted to undermine his control. “Your very presence brings death, Kanan. You’re the Reaper. It’s only a matter of time before all those precious little people in your life die because of you, or for you. And you know I’m right.”

Kanan growled at the words his shadow had plucked right out of his own mind. “You don’t know anything!”

The Shade smirked. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Kanan roared and shoved the Shade and his scythe off him, only to rebound with an aggressive flurry of blows. But his doppelganger only laughed, deep and loud, an imitation of his own voice as it deflected and evaded every blow as if it could see into the future.

“Come on! I know what you’re going to do before you do it. I know everything you know. I know your tactics, your strategies, your favorite maneuvers. And most of all, I know what drives you.”

Glowing eyes flicked to the side where, on the lower catwalk, Ezra and the Grand Inquisitor were locked in their own duel. Kanan couldn’t help but spare what valuable attention he had left to look. Lightsabers danced ferociously around each other, the Grand Inquisitor bombarding Ezra every chance he had, keeping the boy exclusively on the defensive.

Kanan had no idea how Ezra was even up and on his feet, let alone lasting as he was, but he was worried. Beyond worried. He had no idea how long that second wind of Ezra’s would last, but he knew it was only the combination of that second wind and the skills Kanan had spent years instilling in Ezra — skills in combat, evasion, and the deepest focus he could master — which were keeping him alive. If either failed his apprentice, even for an instant, the Inquisitor would take him again. Maybe kill him this time.

Somehow, Kanan had to end this. He had to get down to Ezra and save him. Stop his nightmare from becoming a reality. Protect him, like he always did. Just like he’d swore he’d do.

But how was he supposed to do that when facing the dark side of himself?

“I sense your fear, Kanan,” his doppelganger said, its tone uncomfortably triumphant. “You won’t get to him in time to save him. Not this time. There are too many fronts to fight, and you’re only one man.” It grinned. “How about we make a deal? You let me in, and together we’ll kill the Inquisitor. We’ll save your brat of an apprentice.”

“And what’s to stop you from killing Ezra afterward? Him or the others?” Kanan demanded. “As much as you know me, I know you!”

“Then I guess you’ll both die,” the Shade said as it swung the blade. “Or, alternatively, that Inquisitor and I will catch you both and just wait for the inevitable fall. And it will be inevitable.”

Kanan attacked again, but that didn’t mean what the shadow predicted wouldn’t come to pass. He knew he only resisted the Shade right now because of the combat. Because of the adrenaline and desperate need to get to Ezra. But if both he and Ezra failed here and now and were captured, the fight in him would fade. Kanan’s will would weaken, and the temptation of his scythe would become too much for him to fight on his own.

He’d fall, and the moment he did, no matter how good and bright Ezra was, Ezra’s love for him would cause his inevitable descent into the dark side as well. And when that happened there would be no going back. Nothing would save either of them. Not Hera or the crew, or Maz and her wisdom. Not phantom memories filled with regret. Not revenge.

If he fell, he’d drag Ezra down and destroy everything. He was sure of it.

But how was he supposed to stop that from happening when no matter what he tried, he couldn’t beat the darkness he’d cultivated? And how was he supposed to do that when Ezra was at risk? When the boy was being used as leverage against him as much as Kanan was being used against Ezra.

How were they supposed to succeed?

“There’s no scenario where you both walk away from this,” the Shade said, reading Kanan’s mind again. Kanan lunged, but the Shade swiftly knocked the lightsaber out of the way before surging forward, scythe raised. Heat radiated next to Kanan’s face as he brought his lightsaber up just in time to stop the metal from contacting his skin before he kicked at the shadow. It laughed at him, its shadowy substance semi-dense and rendering the attack ineffective.

“You can’t kill me, Kanan. You can’t even hurt me.”

Ignoring the sharp bloom of panic freezing his gut, Kanan tried to shove away, but the Shade only increased its pressure. Kanan couldn’t move, his muscles shook with the exertion, and the scythe was slipping closer and closer to his body. One touch was all it would take. The Shade had to hold out only as long as Kanan did, and cutting its body in half wouldn’t dispel it this time like he had when Hera had been in danger months ago. He had to figure out another way of either fighting it off or getting rid of it.

The heat was oppressive as it waved off the weapon. Sweat streaked down Kanan’s back and along his neck. The desire to let the scythe in squirmed in his mind and his thoughts were beginning to fracture. It was getting harder to think.

Not good.

“Look,” the Shade said, eyes flicking over his shoulder again and Kanan’s heart filled with dread. “Your little apprentice doesn’t seem to be doing very well, does he? All alone, facing the Inquisitor who killed his parents? Beaten. Drugged. On his last legs. How long do you think it’ll be before he takes after you and submits to his rage? Or be better than you and reject it, and be slain by the Inquisitor.” The Shade’s eyes burned. “ _Look_.”

Compelled, Kanan expanded his sight and saw Ezra was struggling. His movements lagged from whatever energy burst he’d found earlier. He was having trouble attacking, and his actions were strictly defensive. Openings in the Imperial’s guard presented themselves, but Ezra couldn’t take them. The glee on the Grand Inquisitor’s face was telling.

Like him, Ezra didn’t have long either.

“Ezra,” Kanan grunted, scrambling to figure out how he could help the boy, how he could buy some time from the Shade to get down there and help him like he should. But there wasn’t a way. The Shade wouldn’t give him a way, not without accepting it into himself and giving it his body.

What was he supposed to do?

Suddenly, unexpectedly, streaks of bright blaster fire flashed in his Force sight. One missed the Grand Inquisitor entirely, but the other two skimmed the darksider and forced him to back off Ezra and retreat, only to have to evade the waiting claws of Rosie. More blaster fire provided by Zeb and Sabine as they advanced followed the Inquisitor, and the Pau’an leapt and used his lightsaber to deflect and redirect the bolts. But the moment of reprieve was exactly what Ezra needed to recollect. Light side energies spiked within the boy, breathtaking and bright as he launched himself at the Inquisitor, strength returning again.

Kanan sucked in a breath, realizing with a start that Ezra wasn’t as alone as Kanan thought he was. Wasn’t as outmatched as he’d initially thought. Ezra had the Force. He had a Lasat and a Mandalorian watching his back. He had a deadly nexu of all things ready to rip the Inquisitor to shreds the very moment she could. They were working as a team against his opponent, and Kanan now realized the Pau’an wasn’t in as great a shape as he’d originally thought. Blaster marks sizzled and pocked his dark clothing, and saber burns skimmed his body. There was even a nasty burn which had nicked his brow.

The fear which had frozen his heart from the ingrained worry he held for Ezra, the worry he always had that Ezra would be in trouble if he wasn’t there to save him … it started to thaw. The fight was difficult, and Kanan couldn’t predict the future, but Ezra … maybe the truth was that right now Ezra didn’t need him. He had support already.

For so long he’d worried about Ezra, and had done everything to protect him. That little boy who needed Kanan so long ago had only had him to rely on, and with all the death in Kanan’s life, he’d taken his job seriously. Made it his personal duty to keep Ezra safe, and hadn’t trusted anyone except Maz to help. But that wasn’t the case anymore, and he had to learn now to trust others to help keep Ezra safe, as much as trust Ezra.

And maybe together with the others, Ezra might be able to hold off, or even take care of the Grand Inquisitor without him.

But they’d never succeed if Kanan lost his fight, and the Shade won. If he let his fear and worry for Ezra consume his mind and heart and drive his actions. Kanan realized he needed to trust that Ezra and the others could handle it on their own without him.

Ezra wasn’t alone in his fight.

And it struck Kanan that, in a strange way, he wasn’t alone in his either.

He might not have physical backup. He might feel weak and afraid, pulled and tormented by the monster he’d made, the monster he’d fed, and he might have to fight it alone, but he wasn’t alone. The others, they supported him, and they did that believing in him. Like Ezra, they wanted what was best for him and believed he could be better than he was. That he could find a way to rise above his demons.

Why else were they fighting so hard for him and Ezra? Why else had Hera fought so hard to stay around and help him when he’d been weak? Why else had they all risked their lives freeing him from the scythe’s influence when it had taken him over?

The others might not be crossing blades with the scythe like he was, but they were there where it mattered.

And suddenly, Kanan knew how to beat his Shade.

Determination swelled in his chest, and Kanan redirected his attention back to the fight at hand, his fight. With a shout, he shoved the Shade off before attacking with a vigorous volley of swings, each causing the spots where his lightsaber and the scythe clashed to spark.

“Ezra can take care of himself,” Kanan said. “He doesn’t need me to watch over him. He’s got friends, and they help each other. They’re helping each other right now!”

The Shade sneered and twisted the wicked blade through the air, but Kanan dodged even as the air screamed with its passage.

“He’s weak!” his doppelganger said. “He can’t handle the Grand Inquisitor!”

“He can because I trained him and because he’s not alone!” Kanan advanced again, and he felt the heat which surrounded the shadow flicker, like a breeze had swept over a candle, momentarily weakening it.

“So what if he’s not alone?” it demanded, teeth bared. “You are. It’s only you and me up here, and we both know who’s stronger. We both know who’s going to win.”

A bolt of conviction roared through Kanan.

“I am not alone!”

Strength flooded Kanan as he slammed his lightsaber down upon the Shade. Just in time, it brought the scythe up to guard, but where the energy of the lightsaber was once repelled from the metal, the smell of smoke began permeating the air. The metal where the saber beat against it began to glow, heating despite its Force-given resistance.

The shadow scowled, and its arms began to quake.

“You are!” it insisted. “You lose everyone—they all die—!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Kanan said, confidence radiating from within him and into the Force. “That’s the past, and right now I have people who care about and support me. People who need me as much as I need them. I won’t let you take that from me, and I will do whatever it takes to get rid of you!”

The Shade gripped the shaft of the scythe tighter, baring its teeth as Kanan bore down harder with his lightsaber.

“You think you can get rid of me?” it snarled. “You can’t! I’m always going to be there, right at the center of you. All that anger that eats away at you? All that pain you suppress? Even if you beat me, none of that will just go away. I’ll always be there.” It somehow leaned forward, the uncomfortable heat of it both oppressive and maddening. “I am you.”

“You’re right,” Kanan said, lifting his chin defiantly. “You are a part of me. I don’t doubt the anger will ever really go away. At least, not for a long time. But you’ve got that last part wrong.”

Righteous energy poured into him from the Force as he thought of what he’d learned in the temple. What he’d learned from Hera’s crew. From Hera. From Ezra. From himself. Light side Force grew solid there like a physical thing, and the Shade’s glowing eyes widened in shock, bright against its shadow-like skin. Kanan squared his shoulders, confidence filling the Force.

“You’re not me. I’m me. You’re just the thing I made. The thing that grew out of me, and I know the truth. I don’t need you. I may crave you, but I don’t need you. I need my family. I need my friends.”

“You’re wrong!” the Shade shouted, but with Kanan’s confidence and light filling the Force, a new type of power manifested as well. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Truth? Understanding? Surety? Vindication? Whatever it was, the strength of it flowed through Kanan’s being, unstoppable and bright.

“I’m not the one who needs you,” Kanan said. “You need _me_. And because you need me to survive, I will always have what it takes to overcome you.”

“It won’t last!” the Shade roared back, seeing now who had the upper hand, and the inevitable conclusion of their battle. “You might think you’ve banished me, but it’s only a matter of time before you do it again. Empty out. Make me. Then next time I’ll be sure to kill everything you love. Leave you with nothing but emptiness and pain, and—!”

“That won’t happen,” Kanan said. “Because I have people to help me. People that won’t let me fall back again.” Amidst everything, a proud smile bloomed upon Kanan’s lips as he thought of the  _Ghost_  crew. Of Maz. Of Proxy and Ezra.

Of Hera.

“I’m never going to fall back, not with them to keep me on the right path.” His blind eyes narrowed at his doppelganger, his dark side, and he felt its fear seep into the Force. “And I will never need you again.”

And as the words left his mouth, a proclamation and a vow, he knew it was true. With so many people who cared about him, loved him and wanted the best for him, he would finally be strong enough. He would finally be able to let the scythe and the darkness within him go.

He could finally let his anger and his pain go.

The Shade’s eyes widened in terror as its hold on the scythe shook violently. Its power overwhelmed and overcome.

“No!”

Kanan pressed harder, without fear and without doubt, and the Shade screamed. Light filled his Force sight, blinding Kanan as his lightsaber sank through and passed the dense metal of his scythe.

Power exploded outward, a phantom scream filling the air as the Shade tried to burn him with what lingering power it still had. But Kanan bore through it, his long hair loose and whipping out behind him.

The flash of heat faded away, and cooler air replaced it like a blessing. When Kanan’s Force sight cleared again, his scythe was in two pieces at his feet, harmless and empty.

The Shade was gone.

* * *

 

Ezra was flagging, and with every move he made to defend himself and fight back the Grand Inquisitor, it grew more noticeable.

It hadn’t started off that way. When he and Kanan were forced apart to face their opponents individually, despite Ezra’s initial concerns, he’d grown confident. With the stim in his blood and the years of dedicated training Kanan had pushed him rigorously to learn and perfect, he had kept up. A small part of him had worried he’d freeze, that the very action of crossing blades with the man who’d killed his parents would render him useless in battle.

But he found it was the exact opposite. Almost the moment their blades clashed one-on-one, Ezra felt alive and strong. Focused. Powerful. The Force flowed through him, egged on by the memory of what this Imperial had done to him, both in his past and now. How he’d hurt him and those he cared about. What he’d do if Ezra didn’t do everything he could to take him down and save his friends. Save Kanan. Save everyone.

The Force had throbbed through him in a way it never had before, and with the stim in his blood and his repressed anger feeding into his actions, he’d gained the upper hand. He’d moved like the wind, swift and unpredictable, sure despite both glowing red blades threatening to dismember him or worse. Power had flowed into every blow, and vindictive pleasure flared through him with every close graze to the nonhuman’s skin and with every grimace of concentration the Pau’an gave him as he struggled to keep up. Ezra had almost gloated with his immense second wind raging through him.

Then he’d caught sight of Kanan fighting his shadow on the catwalk above.

When Kanan’s fight had started, he’d looked steady. Maybe not truly confident, but Ezra thought at the very least his master could hold out long enough for Ezra to get to him. Wait long enough for Ezra to figure out a way to stop the Inquisitor so he could get up there and help Kanan defeat his demon.

But that glance showed him he’d been wrong. The shadow-Kanan attacked with gleeful abandon and his Kanan kept losing ground. Blurs of shining blue and matte black wove ribbons around the two figures, but his master was clearly struggling to prevent the scythe from making contact with him. It seemed like it was all he could do to prevent that from happening. It was the best he had.

And Ezra suspected it was only a matter of time before Kanan’s best wouldn’t be enough.

“Distracted, Apprentice?” the Grand Inquisitor had snarled as he’d hammered into Ezra, taking advantage of his gap in attention. “Worried about your poor master?”

Ezra had growled and tried to reorient his attention to the fight at hand, but now that he’d glimpsed Kanan, dread and the reality of the situation had returned to him. He shouldn’t have been having fun fighting the Imperial. He shouldn’t have taken satisfaction or vindictive pleasure from any injury he dealt the Grand Inquisitor. Kanan was up there, alone with that thing! What had he been doing down here, enjoying his fight? That wasn’t what Jedi did!

That was what darksiders did, and with disgust, he’d realized where the power fueling his actions up until now had come from. It wasn’t the stim. The stim had definitely helped, sure, but that hadn’t been it. To keep up with the Inquisitor, he’d been tapping into his anger, using it instead of calm focus to wield the Force. He’d been doing what Kanan did. The very thought unnerved him, and so he forced himself to stop.

But in doing so, the energy found in that second wind died, and now he could feel his muscles lagging. Feel his response time slow. Feel the strength of his attacks fade with every hit and what ground he’d gained he was now losing rapidly. It was as if they’d exchanged roles as aggressor and defender. Now it was all Ezra could do to keep up. To avoid attacks. To bully his muscles into action because now it was apparent the stim was wearing off. He didn’t have long. The one time he’d let his attention slip, just for a moment, he’d paid the price with a pair of burns to the cheek. He hadn’t made the same mistake again. He couldn’t afford to.

The Grand Inquisitor smirked, his yellow eyes blazing.

“What’s wrong, dear boy? Where has all that fight gone? You had it not long ago. You know you could have it again.” The Pau’an’s words were like smoke, distracting him and tugging at his concentration. “You want to beat me, don’t you? You want to go up there and save your precious master. It would be easy for you to do, Ezra Bridger.” The Grand Inquisitor’s smirk widened as he brought his lightsaber down brutally. “Just reach for the dark side.”

“No!” Ezra shouted before finding the strength to shove the man off, and then the fight began again in earnest.

The Inquisitor hammered him relentlessly, pushing him harder and harder, and though Ezra kept up and saw openings in the Pau’an’s guard, he just wasn’t fast enough to take them. His hands were going numb under the barrage, and the urge to reach for his anger again nagged with growing urgency. Promising to grant him all the power he’d ever need. Ever desire.

At the price of everything he believed in and held dear.

Ezra managed to remain standing as he endured the battering, craving breathing room he desperately needed. His chest heaved with the exertion of fighting for so long, and his muscles were shaking. He was running on fumes. He didn’t know how long he’d have left before his body gave out.

But he knew it wouldn’t be long enough.

Light suddenly flashed past Ezra’s vision, and the Pau’an scowled and leapt back as blaster bolts singed his flesh, but distracted as the Imperial was he leapt right into Rosie’s path. Somehow the nexu had crept up behind the Pau’an and, from her position, she came within a hairs width of slashing him with her claws, though again the Inquisitor managed to evade.

“We’ve got your back, kid!” Zeb shouted, bo-rifle firing again as Sabine’s WESTARs blazed with vengeance, nearly striking the Grand Inquisitor multiple times if not for his lightsaber deflecting the bolts. “Come on, hurry up! We haven’t got all day!”

Ezra stared because, in the midst of his fight, he’d completely forgotten about Zeb and Sabine and Rosie. His reality had shrunk down to red and blue light and the possibility of failure. But now that a lull in the battle had allowed everything to change, Ezra remembered he wasn’t alone down here. Impossibly, the sight of his friends at his back and Rosie in front of him helping caused a smile to crawl its way onto Ezra’s lips. Zeb. Sabine. Rosie. They were all here fighting with him. He wasn’t alone fighting the Grand Inquisitor, and why should he be?

He had support. The very fact they and Kanan were here at all with him was proof of that.

Though the Grand Inquisitor had wronged him in so many ways, though the fight had felt like it was his fight alone — that he had to win it alone — he didn’t. That was a lie. He had the others to depend on to help take his threat down. They were a team, and once the Inquisitor was down, as a team, they’d help Kanan.

Because even if he had to beat it into his master’s head, Kanan wasn’t alone either.

The knowledge unlocked a hidden alcove of energy and invigorated him with the light side of the Force. It fought back the cold weight building in his body, and Ezra lashed out again at the Inquisitor, focused this time on relying on his friends to help distract the Pau’an while Ezra waited for an opening.

And with this burst of energy, he found one and moved immediately to overwhelm the Grand Inquisitor. The Imperial scowled as the tip of Ezra’s lightsaber grazed his arm, and just as Ezra had intended the Pau’an stepped back and was within reach of Rosie again. She screeched as her split tail slithered around his ankles and knocked him to the ground. The darksider swiped at the nexu with his lightsaber, but Ezra had already urged her away so he had room to attack again.

“I see you’ve found a bit more fight,” the nonhuman said as he rolled in time to avoid Ezra’s lightsaber, while at the same time lifting his blade to deflect a shot from Zeb. “But it won’t work, boy. You’ll give out. Your friends will die. Your master will fall, and then so will you. And once that has happened, my master will be pleased. You will both kneel before him as you serve the dark side.”

A bolt of defiance roared through Ezra.

“We won’t kneel before anyone!”

Their blades clashed, and the sound of energy scraping against energy was loud as it surrounded them. The light was blinding, but Ezra’s focus was on the sick yellow eyes which bore into his. The yellow eyes which had haunted his dreams and taken his parents away. The ones which promised to do the same to his friends and Kanan. To him.

And in the face of those eyes, something solidified within Ezra’s chest. This man before him, he was the root of every bad thing that had happened to him; a horrible creature tainted by the dark side of the force. But here now, the Pau’an was alone. He was injured, and he was outnumbered. Ezra knew the Grand Inquisitor wouldn’t admit defeat or weakness, but studying him now, his living nightmare looked less nightmare and more man. Alone, and filled with hatred.

The heat in Ezra’s chest, the heat which still flickered with quiet rage and vengeance, fizzled out. This would be his future if he gave into his anger. Kanan or not, if Ezra fell to the dark side, he would become what the Grand Inquisitor was; all the light and goodness which swelled in him gone, leaving him spiteful and deranged.

It was the last thing Ezra wanted and if falling toward the dark side was a choice, he never wanted it. Because he would lose himself if he let it in. He would lose his friends and family again. If he fell, he would lose Kanan too, even if they fell together. And though he worried about Kanan and the fight he was enduring with his demon above, he knew Kanan would never want him to fall, even if he did.

And so, Ezra wouldn’t.

As if reacting to his thoughts, something settled in the Force — something the Grand Inquisitor could feel — and any certainty of success, any belief that the nonhuman could sway Ezra was gone. Those yellow eyes turned cold and vicious, and the scowl he gave Ezra was beastly.

“I’ll kill you then!” the Grand Inquisitor spat. “I’ll kill you and your friends! I’ll kill everyone you love, but I won’t let you die first. I’ll make you watch as I torture them, as your master tortures them, and—!”

From the catwalk above, energy exploded in the Force. Hot energy which burned with fury flashed out in a wave from where Kanan had been facing off with the scythe. A sharp crest of panic speared Ezra as he struggled to make sense of what was going on up there. What did this mean? Was he too late? Had the scythe overtaken his master? Had he just lost Kanan?

But within the wave of dark side energy, Ezra felt something strong withstand it. It wasn’t light side and shining like Ezra was, but there was no denying it wasn’t dark like the Inquisitor either. It resisted the beat of the vile energy resolutely. Immovable. Sure.

And through the bond which connected them, Ezra knew that was Kanan, and that somehow he’d managed to destroy his scythe and overcome the darkness which lingered there.

Ezra couldn’t stop the shock or the unstoppable roaring pride from welling up in his chest. Kanan, he’d done it. He’d done it!

The scythe was destroyed, and the dark side presence within it faded away into nothing.

“Impossible,” the Grand Inquisitor said in disbelief, but that was all the distraction Ezra needed. Emboldened by Kanan’s triumph, with the Grand Inquisitor’s attention focused on Kanan, Ezra deactivated his lightsaber, took aim with the pistol attachment and fired.

The Pau’an screamed, body jerking violently, and a well-placed shot from Sabine hit the Inquisitor’s hand and caused him to drop his lightsaber. It deactivated with a snap-hiss on the catwalk, and with a clear mind and steady emotions, Ezra fired again. The Grand Inquisitor went still, his eyes rolling back before he dropped to the ground, limp and unmoving. The swell of dark side energy the Pau’an possessed dissipated.

And just like that, it was over.

Ezra stared at the motionless form of the Inquisitor before a soft thump behind him caused him to look back. Kanan stood there, singed, rough, tired but alive. His master faced him, lightsaber deactivated and milk-white eyes filled with utter relief.

Emotion choked Ezra. So much had happened in such a short time. The shadow in Kanan’s scythe taking Kanan over, then having to rescue him, fight him, subdue him, leave him behind to get rid of the scythe himself, getting captured, tortured, and finally struggling through the hardest fight of Ezra’s life.

He should be furious with Kanan. So much of this was his fault. But just the sight of him … all Ezra felt was desperate, unstoppable happiness because Kanan was alive and he was himself and the scythe — that damned scythe — was finally out of their lives. And so was the Grand Inquisitor.

Ezra was running toward Kanan before he realized he’d moved. “Kanan!”

“Ezra!”

Ezra slammed into Kanan, his arms squeezing around Kanan’s chest tightly as he let out a sob of relief, his body threatening to give out on him now that his fight, their fight, was over. Kanan was alive, and Kanan had not only resisted the scythe, but had beaten it and destroyed it too.

His master clung to him just as tightly, holding Ezra’s head against his shoulder as he buried his nose into Ezra’s hair and shuddered a breath.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Ezra trembled and just absorbed Kanan. The warmth of him, the solid presence and steady heartbeat. Deep down he’d been terrified he’d lose Kanan despite everything they’d all done to help him, but here he was, safe. Fine.

They both were, and they’d both somehow managed to beat their respective demons.

Kanan pulled away from Ezra, hands checking him over as his breath shook. Ezra couldn’t remember a time when Kanan had shown so much naked emotion on his face, but instead of hiding it away like he usually would, he left it there, honest and bare for everyone to see.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, his voice tight. “I’m all right. You.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

He let go of Ezra as Zeb thundered down the catwalk. “We don’t have time for reunions. Hera, get ready. We’re on our way out.”

“Finally!” Hera’s voice raced out of the comm in Zeb’s hand. “Hurry it up, all of you. It’s a mess out here, and we don’t have long. Is everything ready?”

“Chopper and I have already secured a shuttle and are sliced into the destroyer’s system,” Proxy’s voice said in response, and Ezra was shocked. Who  _hadn’t_  come to get him and Sabine? “From here we will be able to guide and clear the path to the hanger.”

“Good, now get going!” Hera ordered. “The next time I from hear you, it had better be because you’re waiting for jump coordinates.”

Beside him, Kanan straightened, in control and back to himself and Ezra had never been so glad to see Kanan like this.

“All right, we heard the lady. Ezra, get Rosie. We need to get out of here.”

“About kriffing time,” Zeb said as he lowered the comlink. “Come on!”

The Lasat jogged back to where Sabine stood guard on shaking legs, a tight grimace of concentration on her face. She looked ready to collapse. She looked like her stim was almost gone, just like his was. They needed to go.

“Let’s go, Rosie!” Ezra strengthened his connection to the nexu, feeling it bloom in his mind like a warm draft of air and Rosie immediately began limping along the catwalk, injured and tired but eager to get to him. But before she could, she abruptly stopped and snarled.

The Grand Inquisitor’s eyes were open again, and he was slowly pushing himself to his feet.

In a flash, Kanan was standing in front of Ezra, his lightsaber ignited, and flanked by both Kanan and Rosie, the Pau’an was at their mercy.

But the cold grin on his lips was defiant.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Kanan warned, and the Grand Inquisitor’s lips widened.

“But you’re not.”

The Inquisitor lifted his hand for his lightsaber, but Kanan only threw a hand forward and battered it and the Inquisitor with the Force. The Grand Inquisitor’s lightsaber fell back into the reactor, and within moments an explosion filled the air below them. The destroyer jolted around them and Ezra lost his footing and struggled to stop from falling. Kanan was still upright, and Rosie screeched as she advanced.

The Grand Inquisitor clung to the side of the catwalk above the writhing reactor and began to laugh.

“Even if you manage to escape the ship, there are darker forces much stronger than I who you will one day face.” Yellow eyes gleamed in the light from the growing chaos below. “You’ll never defeat my master.”

Just as Rosie slashed with her claws, the Inquisitor let go of the catwalk and as he did, the dark side of the Force gave one final heave. Before Ezra or Kanan could react, the Grand Inquisitor’s cackling laughter was swallowed by another explosion from the reactor as his body fell inside.

And it took Rosie’s yowl with it as she was dragged over the edge and into the fiery light below with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t tell you guys how proud I am of my Kanan for finally beating his dark side. It was such a moving scene to write/edit and I hope you all thought it was moving as well. And Ezra! We can’t forget about Ezra doing such a good job sticking to the light side of the Force and just being wonderful all around. And of course the crew! Literally couldn’t have made this chapter happen without all of them. Like everything else in this story, I took what we had in Season 1 of Rebels and twisted it into something new, which I hope you liked and enjoyed. In general, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> And that you’re not about to kill me for leaving you with one final cliff-hanger with beloved Rosie.
> 
> Anyways, I’d love to hear what you thought about this chapter! You can find me and updates on my stories on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/) . The final full chapter has only one more scene that needs to be drafted, then editing happens so expect an update next Friday. Till then!


	39. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you all thought I’d actually kill off the fan-favorite. Ah-haha neverrrrr. Rosie grew on me too :] 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ezra stared at the spot Rosie had been, and all sensation of his body vanish as he fell to his knees. She was gone. Just … gone. Pulled under by the Grand Inquisitor as one final vindictive victory.

Panic broke through the numb horror, and he scrambled to the edge of the catwalk. Before he could get far enough, however, Kanan’s hand wrapped around his arm and jerked him back to safety.

Ezra thrashed. “Rosie!”

With the reactor sure to explode at catastrophic proportions and alarms in the ship blaring all around them, Ezra could hardly make out the sound of his own voice. He couldn’t even hear past the stunned ringing in his ears. Kanan was yelling at him as he dragged him back, but it was all happening as if time had slowed.

Rosie.

Tears lined his eyes as his heart gave a painful jolt.

“Rosie!”

Impossibly, rising above the cacophony of noise, a screaming yowl cut through the air.

The Force bond between Ezra and Rosie surged to life, and his breath froze when he felt the catwalk rock and sway. He tore himself from Kanan and looked over the edge, unsure if he could believe his eyes.

Rosie. Hanging on tight under them by her tail where it had wrapped around thick bars under the walkway at the last moment. But there she was, suspended in the air above the boiling reactor like a bad joke as she attempted to swing herself up again like she would any tree in the jungles of Cholganna.

Alive.

Hands shook his shoulders and broke through his disbelief, and Kanan’s blind eyes there right next to him. Finally, Ezra heard his master’s voice as the momentary deafness which had savaged his mind dropped away.

“We’ve gotta help her up. There’s not much time!” Kanan yanked Ezra to his feet, then reached for the Force. “On three!”

Snapping back to himself, Ezra’s brow furrowed in determination as he nodded. In the Force, he felt Rosie’s massive body under them gain momentum with every swing. Kanan’s Force pressure melded with his.

“Three!”

Together they yanked Rosie higher in the air as she reached the crest of her arc, and they shouted as they threw themselves back. Rosie screeched but thudded gracelessly onto the catwalk, scrambling to her feet despite the heavy impact.

Ezra was on her in an instant, as eager to ensure her safety as it appeared she was to check him. Her head twitched around him, sniffing and nudging and pushing and an impossible smile worked its way onto Ezra’s lips as relief turned his body light. Unable to stop himself, he threw his arms around her head even as a couple of the quills snagged and poked him. He didn’t care.

Sabine was safe. Kanan was safe. Rosie was safe. They were all safe.

It felt too impossible to be real. Only an hour ago he’d been trapped and drugged and tortured so brutally Ezra wasn’t sure how he was still upright and on his feet. Now, the Grand Inquisitor was gone, the scythe was gone, and they were all alive.

Kanan’s hand tugged him away from Rosie, reminding him of their situation again. Behind Kanan, Zeb waited for them with one of Sabine’s arms slung over his shoulder as he supported her weight. It seemed her stim-shot had already worn out, and it looked like it was all she could do to keep one arm lifted to hold her blaster shakily.

Seeing her like that had an immediate mirroring effect as Ezra found his own body was at its limits. His stim had run dry, and now that everyone was safe, his body wouldn’t take it anymore. After the scare with Rosie, Ezra’s limbs refused to hold his weight. Weakness dragged him down, and the struggle to stay up made his stomach roll with the strain.

His legs gave out, and it was only Kanan’s quick actions which caught him before he hit the ground.

“Hey! Hey, you all right?”

“I think everything’s catching up to me,” Ezra mumbled, trying to find the energy to move again, but it felt so far away. Kanan frowned before he established his bond with Rosie. Immediately, she prowled closer and lowered herself next to Ezra.

“You think you could hold onto Rosie long enough for us to get out?”

“Kinda have to,” Ezra replied with a wan smile. “Might need your help getting on her.”

Kanan lifted and arranged Ezra so he was in position and once Ezra’s hands were in place, Rosie rose to her feet. Ezra swallowed and held on as tight as he could.

“You good?”

“Let’s go,” Ezra said, unwilling to consider the possibility that he wasn’t. It would be tough, but they needed to get out. He’d use the Force to hang on if he had to. “Just hope we don’t have to fight too much.”

Kanan reached for Ezra’s lightsaber, holding it in one hand and Kanan’s own in the other. “You just focus on holding onto her. I’ll keep you safe.” That said, he and Rosie loped toward the others.

“Where to, Proxy?” Zeb demanded into the comlink.

“We’ve managed to close several blast doors along your path,” Proxy said. “There’s a maintenance lift large enough to carry all of you nearby. Take it, but be fast. I’ve been sending out false reports to keep as many Imperials away from you’re position as possible, and that coupled with the fight outside with Hera and the rebels should clear your path. But I would still advise caution.”

They took the advice seriously and moved as fast as Ezra and Sabine’s exhausted bodies would let them. Sabine couldn’t stand anymore on her own and Zeb was now carrying her on his back. Through Ezra’s connection with Rosie, he did everything he could to stop her movements from being too sharp or aggressive and encouraged her to remain as steady and straight as possible. Otherwise, he would’ve fallen off by now.

They made it to the lift without trouble, and though they fit, it was a tight squeeze. Unfortunately, their luck didn’t hold, not once the lift doors opened. As they piled out, they came face-to-face with stormtroopers, and that was when the fighting started.

Around every corridor were at least one or two Imperials, all ready and willing to fire at them. With Zeb weighed down by Sabine — who couldn’t even hold up her blaster anymore — and Ezra clinging to Rosie with everything he had left, most of the work fell on Kanan and whatever Zeb could manage one-handed with his bo-rifle. Kanan was a blur of light as he moved with swift efficiency, and though there were a few close calls, with everyone moving with a sense of urgency, they bypassed threats left and right. It also helped that the alarms howling in the air were getting more urgent by the second. The reactor core was going to blow any time now, and soon the Imperials hardly cared about their escape when they had bigger problems to deal with.

Before long they’d made it into the hanger where madness and chaos reigned. Smoke and fallen debris filled the area as what few starships and shuttles remaining rose into the air, intent on evacuation. To the side, a lone shuttle was waiting and there an Imperial with a squat droid at his side waved to get their attention.

“Here! Hurry!” the Imperial said with Proxy’s voice, his holoprojection rippling an instant before he ran into the shuttle with Chopper. Rosie and Zeb rushed forward, but now bolts of light were careening their way again as whatever Imperials left decided to take aim and fire as a final act of honor. Rosie snarled and the bond he shared with her roiled dangerously. Ezra clamped down on it and her urge to fight. Now wasn’t the time.

“Come on, Rosie,” he said into her fur as he tightened his fists. “We need to leave, not fight.”

She hissed again, but the urge subsided. Instead, she raced past Zeb and Sabine into the safety of the shuttle before coming to a jagged halt as she dug her claws into the floor. Zeb threw himself and Sabine in a second later, eyes wide with urgency.

“Go, you damned droids! Get us out of here!”

“Kanan!” Ezra said, glancing back to see two blue lightsabers dancing in the air, reflecting and blocking the blaster bolts with blinding speed. “Kanan, come on!”

The shuttle jolted as it rose in the air, the ramp closing, and as it did Kanan sprang and rolled through, deactivating the lightsabers. The ramp sealed shut and outside a few bolts struck the hull.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Kanan barked, leaping over everyone to get to the cockpit. “Hera, we’re on our way out now. The Star Destroyer’s going to blow.”

“Hurry up and get out of there!” her voice called back, and Ezra jumped as clawed hands lifted him up and set him down next to Sabine where she sat limply.

“You two stay right here,” Zeb said before he dashed around Rosie to help Kanan and the droids. Through the viewport, Ezra could see space as they exited the Star Destroyer, but his face fell when he saw the dogfight raging through it. Red and green flares of light streaked around them. TIEs and rebel starfighters wove circles around each other. Ships raced away from the dying Star Destroyer in droves, and just looking at all the madness was dizzying.

Thoughtlessly he reached for Sabine’s hand and held it tight, and she returned the gesture with what strength she had as her eyes remained glued to the viewport. He could guess what was going through her mind. It was probably exactly what was going through his.

That he didn’t want it to end here and now when they’d just been rescued.

“Hold on!” Kanan said as he and Proxy switched places so he could take control of the shuttle. It wasn’t a starfighter by any stretch of the word, and it wasn’t as fast or maneuverable, but with Kanan’s sight and Force sensitivity, they managed to evade most of the fight, though there were some close calls. Zeb was cursing, Chopper was chittering loudly as Proxy manipulated the copilot’s controls, and Ezra tried to breathe through the nervous anxiety crawling around his stomach.

His Force sense blared, and Ezra jerked upright.

“Kanan!”

Through the viewport, he saw the shape of a TIE incoming as it raced through the dust and twisted remains of another destroyed TIE. It was heading right for them, its blasters locked and ready. There would be no evading it once it opened fire. Kanan gritted his teeth as he tried to outmaneuver the TIE, but it was no use. It was coming.

Then, like a miracle, it exploded in a burst of light and the  _Ghost_ entered their view like a guardian angel.

“Get going! I have you covered.”

Relief flooded Ezra, and Sabine’s hand squeezed his as a quick grin flashed across her face at the sight of the  _Ghost_.

“All right, we’ve got the jump coordinates,” Kanan said. “Ready when you are, Hera.”

“We’re ready,” Hera said. “On my mark.”

Outside, rebel fighters flipped and changed trajectory before vanishing one by one into the darkness of space. Behind them a massive explosion filled the area as the Star Destroyer exploded, falling apart in a massive show of light and destruction. TIEs all around them seemed to pause mid-action, and an opening presented itself.

“Mark!”

The starlines of hyperspace filled the viewport, and suddenly the chaos around them vanished, leaving nothing but abrupt silence and the cool lines of brilliant blue and white light.

No one said anything. No one moved as if it was all too good to be true. As if there was another shoe about to drop, and if they relaxed now they’d be goners for sure.

But then the  _Ghost_  appeared in front of them, beautiful and maybe the best thing Ezra had ever seen. A smile crossed his lips, and from the cockpit Kanan’s form relaxed as a grin spread there. Beside him, Sabine sighed with relief and wilted until her body rested against his, both propping the other up. Tired and worn out as her brown eyes were when they met his, there was relief and happiness there. He squeezed her hand tighter, and she smiled and squeezed back.

Zeb staggered from the cockpit to thump onto a seat across from them.

“Have to say,” Zeb said, resting his head against the wall as his body went lax. “That might’ve been the craziest kriffing mission I’ve ever taken my hide through. Let’s all agree not to do that again, right?”

And as if a weight had been lifted, beaten, tired, borderline-manic laughter filled the shuttle, laughter which everyone joined in and for which Chopper whooped loudly. Rosie for her part only yawned and settled her head on her paws where she pressed against Ezra’s leg.  But like this, safe and free with everyone he cared about — who were also as safe and free as he was — Ezra had to admit he’d never felt so good in his life.

* * *

 

“How’re they doing?”

“All things considered?” Zeb said, now that he was finished patching everyone up who needed patching. “Not bad. Sabine and Ezra are battered and worn out, but a bit of bacta and rest and they’ll be good as new. Frankly I was expecting worse, but they pulled out of the mess pretty well. Just exhausted from stim use right now. Kanan and I already put them in their bunks.”

“Good,” Hera breathed, relieved to hear it. “What about you and Kanan?”

“Scuffed up is all. It was the kids who had it bad, and Ezra’s nexu given how often she was tossed around and shot at. Otherwise,” Zeb smirked. “All’s well. At least for now, until those two get us into another mess.”

Hera smiled. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon.”

“They’re Force users,” Zeb said with a chuckle. “I think it’s in their job description.” A clawed hand came down on Hera’s good shoulder. “Anyway, Hera, I’m beat. I’m going to catch some shut-eye for a while, but wake me up if you need anything. The kids should sleep for a while, but when they wake up they’re going to be feeling it.”

“Go ahead and get some rest. You’ve earned it. I’ll take care of everything in the meantime, all right?”

Zeb left with a yawn and vanished into his cabin. Beyond that in the cockpit, all three droids were engaged in discussion, exchanging stories as Chopper insisted it was because of his hard work that the plan had worked at all. AP-5, on the other hand, was vocal that if it hadn’t been for his work at the comms and providing the support Captain Syndulla required while the rest of the crew had been taking their time aboard the Star Destroyer, no one would’ve escaped the Empire in the first place.

Proxy once again appeared torn between the two of them as they jockeyed for the higher prestige when it was Hera’s quiet opinion that if it hadn’t been for Proxy, none of this would’ve worked out. The infiltration team wouldn’t have gotten in in the first place, and nothing would’ve happened at all. And that wasn’t to say anything about the background work he’d done keeping the Empire distracted while everyone had been making for the shuttle to leave. The holodroid was the unsung hero.

Leaving them to their madness and duty watching over the  _Ghost_ , Hera drifted into the cabin Ezra and Kanan shared and waited for the door to whisper open. The light inside was dim, but she could see Ezra’s body resting on the lower bunk where Kanan was seated next to him. At her entrance, Kanan turned his head up and Hera gave him a small smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said with a small smile of his own. “Come to check up on me?”

“More or less.” She moved closer so she could get a better look at Ezra. It might have been the most peaceful she’d seen the boy, even if he was a bit black and blue. “Zeb told me everyone’s patched up. Thought we might be able to talk.”

“Ah, talk,” Kanan said with a grin. “And here I thought you just wanted to get me alone for a bit.”

Hera smirked before nodding over her shoulder, out of the room. “Think you can leave him for a little while?”

Kanan faced Ezra again, studying him for a moment before he stood. “He should be fine. Lead the way.”

Quietly, she led him into her cabin and let the door close behind them. The familiar shapes and colors which filled her room were an absolute comfort to behold after everything that had happened. This was the first time she’d found an instant to relax, let alone come in for some peace. Just being here with Kanan and no pressing, life-threatening worries beating at her had the immediate effect of easing her muscles and making the pillar of strength within her relax.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me back in here again,” Kanan joked as he settled next to her on her bunk. “Though for a while there, I wasn’t sure I was going to be alive enough to see if you would.”

“Well, welcome back,” Hera said as she finally got a chance to take him in. Since exiting hyperspace and getting them all on the  _Ghost_ , there’d only been time enough for Kanan to brief her and Ahsoka on what had happened while they’d been on the Star Destroyer. After that, it had been a flurry of action taking care of Ezra and Sabine, getting Rosie sedated and resettled on the  _Kasmiri_ , and arranging things with Ahsoka and her rebels for the time being. As it was, the  _Ghost_  and  _Kasmiri_  were nestled amidst a collection of rebellion starships while they figured out what their next moves would be.

Which was one of the primary reasons she’d wanted to speak with Kanan.

Hera interwove her finger as she arranged her thoughts. Where to start?

“Kanan,” Hera said, deciding to go for it instead of beating around the bush. “I know a lot has happened with you and with Ezra. I don’t know how far into the future you’ve though yet, or what your plans were, but I was thinking—”

“Hera.”

Hera fell silent and looked at Kanan, and her thoughts fell away as she saw the way his blind eyes were staring at her. There was something serious there in his face, but also something vulnerable and tender, and the longer she looked at it the more her heart squeezed and began to hope. She couldn’t help but glance at his lips, trying to decide if maybe she should go for it this time, or no.

“Kanan—”

Again her words fled, but this time it was because a warm hand had slid behind her neck and she found herself gently urged forward. Her breath caught, and Kanan gave her time to pull away, but when she didn’t, warmth sealed itself over her lips without hesitation.

The scent of Kanan inundated her as they kissed, and his beard lightly brushed against her chin and made her skin tingle. Hera sighed at the sensation as her eyes closed. She blindly slipped a hand into his long hair, grabbing hold to guide him as the kiss gained intensity.

It was soft but lined with a hint of desperation and an aching edge of relief which spoke a great deal about how they’d both felt the last few days, and what they thought of it all now. This was the first kiss they’d shared since the gala, and with all the chemistry and growing intimacy they’d shared since then, and all the stress and fear and worry from the Inquisitors and his scythe, she’d wondered if she’d ever get the chance to kiss him again.

But here it was. Here _he_ was, opening up to her and letting her in. _Finally_.

She tugged on his hair, pulling him away enough to arch a brow at him.

“Trying to steal kisses again?” Hera said, her cheeks heated and lips lightly buzzing. “Should I expect more behavior like this from you?”

“I don’t know,” Kanan said before one of those gunslinger grins of his lit his face. “I’m still trying to make up for those kisses from the gala, you know. How am I doing? Can I apologize yet?”

“Oh, is that all this is about?” she teased, suddenly thrilled with the direction this was heading. “You know, I’m still not sure that deserved an apology either. If you really want to change my mind, you’re going to have to do much better than that.”

“Ouch,” Kanan said. “Really know how to take a man down a peg or two, don’t you?”

“I have standards and expectations.”

“Well then,” Kanan said, his lips brushing against hers. “I’ll have to show you my best.”

“You’d better.”

This time when they kissed the gentle care of the first was replaced with heat as he held her tighter and stole her breath away. She clung to him as the tension from the last several months — let alone the last week — broke through and they moaned together as they fought for dominance. Ever since he’d come back, ever since he’d destroyed his scythe, she’d felt there was something different about him. Like a wall had fallen away and now all those things Kanan had been hiding from her, they seemed within reach.

And there was so much he was sharing. So much fear. So much need and desperation. So much relief and vulnerability and happiness that she felt her heart tighten in response, filled with that intense warmth she got every time Kanan let her in.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan whispered between kisses, kisses which left little space to breathe. Still, somehow he found the breath to utter another worshipful, heartfelt apology. An apology she knew had nothing to do with his kissing technique and everything to do with the whirlwind he’d put her and her crew through. “I’m so sorry.”

“Apology finally accepted,” Hera whispered back against his lips as she pulled away to hold his blind eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for that?”

“Probably for longer than you ever should’ve,” he replied before he kissed her again. Hera groaned with both relief and pleasure, and it pulled a matching one right out of him.

It seemed now that they’d started kissing, now that he was letting her in, they couldn’t stop, and the desperation gave way to passion as it burned shamelessly between them. It was only when the need for oxygen mounted that they broke apart again. Her body was warm and her cheeks blazed. She reached for him and flinched as her injured shoulder shot a bolt of pain down her arm.

Oh, right.

“Careful,” Kanan said as he straightened, taking her hand in his and resting it between them to take the strain off her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” Hera replied, but now that the heat driving them had faded enough to allow the real world back in momentarily, though she was thrilled by the manifestation of what existed between them, important matters and questions pressed in on her again. As if sensing her mood, he smiled at her.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” Kanan said. “I don’t think that was exactly what you had in mind when you said you wanted to talk to me.”

“No, but I don’t exactly regret the development,” she said before she sighed. After that and with the potential for more still buzzing between them, the last thing she wanted to do was break the mood with serious questions. But they were questions which needed to be asked. Questions which needed answering.

For the both of them.

“I wanted to talk to you about what your future plans are,” Hera said. “You’ve destroyed your scythe and saved Ezra. You saved Sabine and got my crew to safety. Now that everything’s over, what will you and Ezra do now?”

Kanan sighed and turned his blind eyes toward the doorway, the hand still wrapped around hers tightening slightly as he thought.

“I was thinking about just that when you came to find me,” Kanan admitted. “We don’t have a home to go back to. No secondary bases or bolt holes. Our resources are limited and … well, we can’t exactly hide from the Empire anymore. No doubt they’ll be after us now more than ever.” He gave her a grin. “I guess if that position with the rebellion is still open, that’ll be it.”

Hera studied Kanan as she turned over his decision. Though she’d hoped this was the choice he’d make, there was a part of her which was still surprised to hear it. If he wanted, he could find another part of the galaxy to hide away. It would be difficult, but after a lifetime hiding from the Empire, she thought if anyone could do it, he could.

But although she should be jumping for joy he was even willing to join the rebellion, she didn’t want him to do it because he felt like it was his only option, or even out of a sense of obligation. If he wanted, she would let them walk out of the rebellion. Walk away from her and her crew.

But she didn’t want him to.

“You’re sure? I could talk to Ahsoka and tell her you don’t want to join if you don’t want to.” Hera frowned but gave it to him straight. “You can turn the rebellion down.”

Kanan stared at her, then give her a smirk as he cocked an eyebrow.

“What? Now you’re trying to get rid of me?” Kanan shook his head in mock exasperation. “After all that time and work trying to get me to let you guys in and see things your way? I thought we made a pretty good team. Ezra’s going to be devastated. He really had his heart set on this, you know.”

Hera’s eyes widened as her heart hammered with rising hope. “Kanan.”

“I mean, if you want me to go, that’s fine,” he continued with a shrug, “but I can’t exactly be the Reaper anymore. You and your rebellion ruined that for me. Actually, the way I see it, since you all blew our cover, you owe me and Ezra and Proxy, and even Rosie! We’ve lost our aliases and we’re homeless. I don’t even have my scythe anymore.”

“Thank goodness,” Hera said with a radiant smile, one he matched. “That was a horrible weapon.”

“So, you know what?” Kanan carried on. “I think we’re going to get nice and comfy here. You can’t kick us out. We’re not leaving.”

The Twi’lek snorted at him as she lifted an eyebrow daringly.

“Is that so?” she said. “Last I checked, the  _Ghost_  was my ship. I say who stays and who goes.”

“Then I’ll commandeer it,” Kanan replied smoothly. “I’ll add it and the  _Phantom_  to my small fleet, once I get the  _Escape_  back.” A brilliant grin filled his face. “Hey, maybe we could start our own rebellion. I’ll even make you Grand Admiral.”

“Oh, thank you so much for the promotion, General Jarrus,” Hera said as she slid a hand along his chest, feeling the warmth which lingered just below the fabric of his shirt before she slid her hand up to the back of his neck. “What would you do if I commandeered  _your_  ships? I have to admit, the  _Kasmiri_  and the  _Escape_  are both lovely ships. The things I could do with them.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to commandeer you first.”

She grinned and tilted her head from side to side, her lekku brushing against his hand where it had relocated itself to the back of her neck again. The sensation sent delicate shivers down her spine.

“You know,” Hera said. “I think I already won that battle.”

“Well,” Kanan replied, a gentle smile resting on his face as he admitted the truth. “Maybe you did.”

“I know I did,” Hera said before her eyes softened. “You’re really going to stay?”

Kanan pressed his forehead to hers and breathed as if savoring the scent of her. His body relaxed.

“If you and your crew still want us around, yeah, Hera. We’re staying. I’ll stay.” Kanan smirked before pulling away, just a little. “Besides, I doubt Ezra would leave now even if I had to drag him out of here. He’s really close with the others.”

Hera hummed. “Particularly close with Sabine.”

Kanan chuckled, and the warm sound filled her to the brim. His hand slipped down her neck and over her shoulder, and Hera found herself in a careful embrace she knew spoke more than his words ever could.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Hera,” he breathed into her shoulder. “I couldn’t have beaten my dark side without everyone. Without you.”

Hera’s heart filled with that careful warmth again, stronger than it had ever been, but no less real. It had grown there in her heart for some time now, and she pulled Kanan away so she could look at him. Dark circles clung to the underside of his pale eyes, and his cheekbones were a little pronounced. He needed feeding. Instead, she let her fingers drift over them, then along his bearded chin before she pulled him into another kiss. It was tender and so filled with this scary and wonderful emotion.

When she pulled away from him, she smiled.

“I love you too, Kanan.”

Those blind eyes stared at her, and his hands on her body tightened. Then a smile bloomed on his lips, one filled with weightless light and a joy she’d never seen before.

“Are you a mind reader now?”

“Oh, I don’t need to read minds to know what’s on yours,” Hera teased, that joy in him infecting her in equal measure. “You’re transparent.”

His smile turned into a grin as he neared her again, their noses brushing. “Everyone else would beg to differ. I gave everyone a run for their money for years.”

“Well, I think we’ve established that I’m not exactly ‘everyone’, am I?”

“You’re not,” he agreed. “You’re absolutely not.” His eyes abruptly brightened. “I forgot to tell you. In the temple, I regained my vision for a little while. I could see with my eyes.”

Hera blinked, surprised by the unexpected statement. “You … you did?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, a hand running over her shoulder, then over a lek. “I saw one of my former masters there, and I had a vision. I saw a lot of things in it. Like Ezra and Sabine. I didn’t realize how colorful her armor is. And Ezra?” Kanan shook his head, his face loving and proud and the look made her throat tighten with care and love of her own.

“Well, Sabine is as colorful as it gets,” Hera said with a wobbly smile. “And Ezra—”

“I saw you too.”

Hera’s words evaporated. “You … you saw me?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied. “It wasn’t for long. Only a glimpse, but I remember one thing about you.”

“Oh?” Hera said, her heart racing in her chest, eager to hear this. “And what was that?”

“How green you are,” he said. “Green eyes, green skin. Lighter green tattoos all along your lekku.” His finger traced her tattoo designs, and the feather-light touches to her lek threatened to derail her mind. “Green.”

“I thought you knew that already,” she said, trying to control herself. “You told me you know colors.”

“But I got to  _experience_  them again,” Kanan said. “I got to experience you in a way I haven’t before. And, even though I know you’re beautiful, that you’re incredible, that you’re feisty and one of the best things that has ever happened to me, seeing you?” He sighed. “I love you so much, Hera.”

Love roared through Hera as she tugged him close again, amazed by everything which had happened in the last several months. Her mission to recruit the Reaper and Rider … she’d never in her wildest dreams believed it would turn out like this. That, not only had she somehow convinced them to join the rebellion and support their cause, but also to have this. A partner she cared deeply about and a larger crew and family, all well and alive. Free from so many of the horrors and demons which had held them back.

Her heart felt full in her chest, and lucky didn’t even begin to describe how she felt at the moment.

“So, you do love me,” she said with a smirk.

He chuckled. “Are you going to make me apologize for that too?”

Hera hummed, “I’m thinking about it.”

Kanan’s chuckle evolved into laughter, contagious laughter which enticed her to join in before he caught the sound with his lips and silenced them both with a kiss.

* * *

 

The next morning, Kanan found Ezra lounging in the nose-gunner’s seat with his eyes closed. Rosie slept at his feet, the big nexu’s breathing audible yet soothing and rhythmic, and with every breath she took her quills rustled. Her tail was wrapped twice around Ezra’s calf as if unwilling to let him go now that she had him back. When Kanan entered she didn’t so much as twitch though Ezra’s eyes peeked open.

“Hey,” Kanan said, taking the boy in for the umpteenth time, so relieved he was here and well, even if he now had some scars on his cheek from the Inquisitor’s lightsaber to commemorate their unwanted adventure. “Was looking for you. How’re you feeling?”

“Like you put me through the Gauntlet five times,” Ezra said, referring to the most difficult obstacle course Kanan had ever put the boy through in his training. It was a grueling week-long affair, and it gave Kanan a pretty good idea how Ezra was feeling. “But I’ll live. Feeling better already. No one’s tortured me today, so that’s a plus in my book.”

At the mention of torture, Kanan frowned. “I’m sorry, Ezra.”

“Don’t, Kanan,” Ezra said quietly, staring out at space as he’d said it. “Don’t even start. It was my decision to take the scythe and get rid of it.”

“But you wouldn’t have had to do that if I’d just done it myself,” Kanan said seriously. “I put all of you in danger because I wouldn’t take care of my problems. You most of all. And I can’t apologize enough.”

“Well, it wasn’t a walk in the park,” Ezra admitted, drawing his eyes back to Kanan. “But if doing all of that meant you finally destroyed the scythe, then I’d do it all again. It was worth it to have you like this. Yourself.”

Kanan stared at Ezra in the Force and his throat tightened with all the love he had for this boy, and all the forgiveness he was giving Kanan even though he didn’t deserve it. If there was one person Kanan knew hadn’t given up on him — and who had more reason to give up on him than anyone — it was Ezra.

And this kid had stuck by him all the way through it, unflinchingly.

Kanan reached out and squeezed Ezra’s shoulder and spoke from the bottom of his heart, dropping his Force stealth so Ezra could feel it and know. “I am so unbelievably proud of you.”

Ezra’s eyes widened, surprise etched on his face. The boy sucked in a breath as his shoulders started to tremble, and his eyes grew misted. Ezra swallowed hard, then said in a thick voice, “Thanks, Kanan. That means … so much to me.”

Kanan’s heart shuddered because he knew how much Ezra meant it, even without the Force. It felt like such a small thing, like Kanan wasn’t giving Ezra near enough. Like there had to be more because Ezra _deserved_  more.

But what he felt in the Force? It hit Kanan like a wave and moved him as much as his apprentice was moved.

Ezra swallowed again and took another deep breath, getting himself back under control and Kanan worked to do the same.

“So, Zeb told me what happened to our base,” Ezra said, changing the subject though his voice wobbled a little before it straightened out. “That the Empire found it, and that you blew it up.”

“Yeah, I did,” Kanan said, letting his hand slip from the boy’s shoulder. “My scythe, I’m guessing, told the Inquisitor where we were.” His words softened. “It told the Empire a lot of things about us.”

“You know, Kanan. I’m kinda glad it did,” Ezra said honestly. “We can’t hide now. Not anymore. Whatever we do from here on out is as Ezra Bridger and Kanan Jarrus. No more Rider. No more Reaper.”

A melancholic tone edged Ezra’s voice, and Kanan cocked an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d be excited about that. Something wrong?”

“About not being the Rider or Reaper anymore?” Ezra laughed. “Uh, no. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

“Then why the long face?”

“I don’t know,” Ezra muttered with a small shrug. “I guess I’m a little sad we’re homeless now. Lothal has always been my home, but now there’s nothing left to go back to there.”

Kanan chuckled. “Well, there’s always Lothal to go back to Lothal for.”

“You know what I mean,” Ezra said with a roll of his eyes before he gave Kanan a sidelong look he’d been expecting since the conversation began. “Kanan, what’re we going to do now? Where are we going to go?”

Although the decision had already been made and Hera assured him the rest of the crew would be on board, he couldn’t help but yank Ezra around just a little. He was still his apprentice after all.

“I don’t know,” Kanan said. “What do you think about Nar Shaddaa? We could have a lot of fun there.”

Ezra gaped. “You can’t be serious,” the boy said incredulously, and Kanan shrugged.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“Uh, yeah. We could stay here,” Ezra said immediately, gesturing to the  _Ghost_  and the crew which kept it. “I know you didn’t want to get pulled into this rebellion stuff, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There’s so much good we could do here, Kanan. We could help them really fight the Empire, and I have no doubt that if you just ask Hera, she’d say yes and let us stay—”

“She already has,” Kanan interrupted before his apprentice could rile himself up any more than he already had. “Hera and I talked, and … we’re staying, Ezra, here on the  _Ghost_  with Hera and her crew.” Kanan grinned. “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind since the mess with the Grand Inquisitor and my scythe.”

“What?” Ezra said, jolting in his seat, then grimacing in pain from moving his beaten body. As he settled back into his seat, hope poured into the Force. “She’s really going to let us stay?”

“Yeah, she’s really going to let us stay.” Kanan spread his hands to indicate the  _Ghost_. “Looks like this is our home now. Comes with a family too. We even get to keep harassing the Empire, though one of the house rules is no more assassinations.” Kanan shrugged. “Gotta say. We really got a deal.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Ezra said cautiously, his hope still strong in the Force, but tempering out the longer he thought about it. “You’re not just saying things?”

“I’m not just saying things, Ezra,” Kanan said seriously. “While you were with the Empire … a lot happened. Believe it or not, the temple summoned me. Made me face some of my demons and prepared me to face some of my others. Opened my eyes, so to speak.”

“What do you mean the temple summoned you?” Ezra said, interest piqued, and Kanan grinned.

“Exactly what I mean, Apprentice. And don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it later because I know you’re dying to know. But long story short, after what I experienced in the temple and after facing my scythe … you’re right. We can do a lot here with Hera and her crew and the rebellion. We can do a lot of good. Besides,” Kanan said, smile broadening. “What sort of master would I be if I didn’t give you the opportunity to be a Jedi?”

“A really bad one,” Ezra said, though there was no hiding the relief and happiness he emitted into the Force. Still, despite the happiness radiating out from the boy, Kanan could feel the slight, melancholic tinge which still existed deep within his apprentice.

And Kanan thought he had just the thing to help it go away.

“Here,” Kanan said as he reached into his pocket and produced a disk before pressing it into Ezra’s hands. “I didn’t have a lot of time before the Empire came down on the base, but I managed to take this before they did, along with your go-bag. Didn’t want you to lose it.”

Ezra studied the disk before his eyes started watering again. On it, they both knew, was the only surviving image of Ezra’s family, something Kanan had worked hard to find for him when Ezra had been younger. Ezra looked at him, teary-eyed before he threw himself at Kanan, arms locking around his torso.

“Thanks, Kanan,” Ezra whispered as he clung tightly, and Kanan wrapped his arms around the boy and breathed in the comforting scent of him. Relieved he was safe. That they were all safe and here together about to face this new future.

“You’re welcome, Ezra.”

Kanan let Ezra hold onto him for as long as he wanted, and when the boy finally let him go and cleaned his face, Ezra gestured to Rosie.

“Since we’re going to be staying here now, what’re we going to do about Rosie?” Ezra asked, looking down at his nexu. “I’m sorry Kanan, but I can’t leave her back on Cholganna again. Not after what that Inquisitor did to her to get to me.”

“I understand, and we’ll figure something out. Hera might have some ideas,” Kanan said as he studied the nexu, knowing good and well he wouldn’t have been able to save Ezra without her help. “Wouldn’t want the Empire to get their hands on her again. Besides, I think it’s pretty clear where she belongs. And she’s certainly made it clear where she thinks she belongs.”

As if aware they were talking about her, Rosie’s quills rustled a little louder and she gave a deep growl, though she didn’t awaken. They both chuckled at her, and with Rosie, Ezra, and Proxy here with Hera and her crew — his crew now too — Kanan felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life within his chest.

Contentment. Contentment and the uplifting presence of hope.

* * *

 

Ahsoka watched as the  _Ghost_  and the  _Kasmiri_  made the jump to hyperspace, now that their new mission objectives had been determined, and smiled slightly at her reflection in the transparisteel.

When she’d issued the mission to recruit the Reaper and the Rider to Hera and her crew, she could honestly say she hadn’t quite understood who it was they were extending an invitation to, or if it had even been a good idea. If it had not been for the Force, she might have abandoned the idea entirely as foolish and risky. But as always, she’d trusted the Force, and it had not let her down.

Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger. An atypical Force user and his Jedi Padawan.

Ahsoka’s smile brightened. With their presence and willingness to fight, she was proud to see the light side of the Force hadn’t been as eradicated as the Empire would have the galaxy believe. And though she’d always known it personally, to see such incredible and brilliant sources of goodness in those two gave her even greater hope for the future.

 _I knew Hera and her crew were the correct choice_ , Ahsoka thought to herself as she turned from the viewport to head to the control center, ready to get back to work and change the galaxy for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s just about it, friends. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and found it satisfying, and I’d love to hear what you thought about it! Just the epilogue left and that’ll come out on Sunday. I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my story. Your words were sometimes the only things which kept me going during the low points, and I cannot begin to thank you all enough for all the kind words and encouragement you’ve given me to get here to the end. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
> 
> There’s a lot to say about Blackbird. It has been one of the hardest stories I’ve ever written, and it has taught me so many lessons. Writing it for you guys has been just as much an enriching experience. But instead of waxing long about all of that, I’ll leave it here and save it for [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/) (which I hope you’ll all take a look at, I’d love to see/talk to you guys there!). It’s also there you can find more ways to support me as a writer, if you’d like :]
> 
> Now, we’ve got one person left to visit before Blackbird is over, and I’m sure she’s got some words to share with Kanan as he starts along his new path. Till then!


	40. Epilogue - Phoenix

Maz relaxed in her favorite seat, centered before the impressive view of her personal library while sipping a glass of her favorite wine. The flavor curled around her tongue, stimulating old taste buds and memories as she enjoyed the solitude which was found here. Business was slow tonight, so she felt few qualms about stealing away. The droids would alert her concerning any trouble which might brew, but she doubted anything would arise. She knew the patrons currently relaxing in her cantina, and they wouldn’t cause any trouble. The opportunity allowed her this rare time to herself.

Or, it had.

“I know you’re in here, Kanan Jarrus,” Maz said without rousing herself from her seat. “I should teach you some manners like I taught Ezra.”

“Ezra’s always been well-behaved,” Kanan said as the sound of his footsteps manifested in muted taps where his boot heels struck the floor behind her. “I am too, for that matter.”

Maz sniffed, still waiting for the headache of a man to show himself. “Hardly. Sneaking up on an old woman like you are? You could have at least had the decency to knock.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Kanan asked as he stopped before her, a grin on his lips. “Nah, Maz. Wouldn’t do that for a million credits.”

As Maz studied him … she quietly admitted that if she’d been in Kanan’s position, she’d likely have done the same — though she’d never tell him that. After all, the boy was finally showing her his real face. Wouldn’t want to make his head any bigger than it already was.

She did, however, allow a smirk as she sipped her wine.

“It’s about time,” Maz said. “I was wondering when we’d have a real face-to-face conversation.”

Kanan snorted before nodding at the empty seat next to her own. Maz assented, then gestured to the wine on the small table between them. He shook his head as he sat.

“No thanks, and we’ve had plenty of face-to-face conversations.”

Maz rolled her old eyes. Who did he think she was?

“You putting up a front all these years would hardly be called ‘face-to-face’. At least not in my book, boy.” She let her tired eyes glide over the man next to her, taking in the cleaned-up appearance, strong posture and brightened vitality which had solidly replaced the deep shadows corrupting him. No blindfold covered his blind eyes or the distinctive burn across them.

A peculiar weapon hung on his belt, and her smirk curled higher, even if she didn’t point it out.

Instead, Maz said, “I received word about something which happened above Mustafar several weeks ago. Something involving a pair of Jedi who’ve been moonlighting as vigilantes for some time.” The smug look in her eyes softened. “How are you and Ezra?”

Kanan’s body relaxed into his seat, and she studied this cleaner version of the Kanan she’d known for so long. She hadn’t seen him for over a year, and the last time she had, she’d been deeply troubled by the darkness which had clung to him in the Force. Now, it had lightened. Significantly. Maz considered using the word ‘miracle’, but she could still sense some darkness in him, like a lingering taint.

But hopefully not a permanent one.

“We’re doing good,” he replied with a faint chuckle. “Real good, actually. Everyone’s safe and alive. Certain Imperial problems won’t be bothering us again, though we lost our base in the process. Our home.”

“That’s a shame,” Maz replied. “You hardly seem bothered by the development. Have you come here to ask me for a job, Kanan Jarrus? I believe I might have a position open on my janitorial staff, for you. Your boy would make a brilliant pirate, on the other hand, and I can think of many ways to use Proxy.”

Kanan smiled at the teasing, and it warmed Maz’s old heart to see him light up without restraint.

“As tempting as the offer is, Maz, we’ve got another job. Another home.”

“Another home?” Maz dug. “So soon after losing your last one?”

The man across from her rubbed the back of his neck as his blind eyes glanced away. A fond smile edged his lips. His voice was uncharacteristically soft.

“Uh, yeah. It kinda came with the new family we’ve got.”

“Oh?” Maz said, her lips curling even higher. “A new family? You don’t say.”

“Uh-huh.” Kanan cocked an eyebrow. “And who do I have to thank for that?”

Maz shrugged, unperturbed as she sipped her wine. “I might have pointed a lovely Twi’lek woman in your direction some time ago. What happened next was out of my hands.”

“Just you, huh?” Kanan said, catching her eyes with his blind ones. Maz met them boldly.

“I felt certain tides shifting in the Force,” she admitted. “If you hadn’t been so busy with your hobby harassing the Empire, I’m sure you would have felt them as well. Since you didn’t, it was clear to me you needed a push in the right direction.”

Kanan snorted. “That ‘right direction’ you sent me was something else, Maz. She should’ve come with a warning.”

“Hera Syndulla was exactly what you needed,” Maz said. “And I sense she still is.”

Kanan didn’t deny it. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She eyed him, then raised her chin. “What about the Reaper and his partner?”

“Gone.” The firmness in Kanan’s voice was exactly what Maz wanted to hear. “I’m starting over. We both are. Besides, I doubt Hera would let us stay with her if I kept up with that nonsense.”

“That’s because that woman has a good head on her shoulders,” agreed Maz. “You’d be a fool to give her up.”

Kanan’s grin softened as his gaze turned inward. “Don’t worry. I know.” Slowly he looked at her, blind eyes open and honest. “Thank you, Maz. For everything.”

Studying him, Maz shook her head.

“There’s nothing to thank, boy. I merely saw potential in you and didn’t want it to go to waste.” With an old but contented smile, she looked at Kanan with wise eyes which hid none of the pride she held for him. “And I think you’re finally finding it.”

“That’s the hope,” he agreed.

Companionable silence built between them as Maz sipped her wine. When she swallowed the sip, she tilted her head at him.

“I have the sense showing me these new changes in you and visiting me isn’t all you’re here for.”

“You should be a Jedi, Maz,” Kanan said from behind relaxed, closed eyes. “Nothing gets past you.”

“I am old enough that little gets past me.”

Taking a deep breath, Kanan opened his eyes and stood, turning away to retrieve something. “There are some things I’d like you to have. Things I’ve collected over the years.”

“I have no use for junk.”

Kanan smirked at her over his shoulder. “Do you think the  _Kasmiri’s_  junk?”

Surprise slipped through Maz Kanata. His ship? Why was he giving her his ship?

“I know it’s no surprise to you that I was on a pretty bad path for a while there,” Kanan said as he lifted a small sack from where he’d placed it earlier. “But I talked with some people. Saw some things. An old friend of mine told me I needed to let the past go if I want to get back on track.” A saddened smile sat on his lips. “And I think he was right.”

“So, you’re giving me your ship.”

Kanan nodded. “It’s a good ship. She’s served me well, but … she’s also a reminder of the past for me, and I can’t go back to that. Not when I have to start looking at what’s around me, and what might be in the future.” When Kanan smiled this time, it lacked that saddened quality. “But I couldn’t just sell her or get rid of her. I thought, maybe, the best place for her was with you. I can’t think of anyone who’d treat her better.”

“I see,” Maz said before her eyes fell on the sack in his hands. “And that?”

“Same sort of thing,” Kanan replied. “Relics. Maybe a few valuable ones.”

Maz took the bag from him and riffled through it. These were obviously sentimental items. A strange helmet. A Miraluka’s mask — an odd find, but it did color the picture of Kanan’s past a little better — and, surprisingly, a lightsaber. A lightsaber Maz had once seen in the hands of the late Master Depa Billaba.

What she reached for, however, was the most colorful thing in the sack. A crystal carving in the shape of a bird, colored by transparent shades of beautiful oranges, crimsons, and golds.

“A lovely piece,” Maz praised as she studied the carving, letting it catch the light and causing the crystal to burn with brilliance. “Thorilide, but someone’s colored the crystal.”

Kanan’s brow furrowed as he stared at her with milky eyes.

“It’s colored?”

“Of course it is,” Maz said as she turned the carving, marveling at the craftsmanship. “The shape is simplistic, true, but the coloring is distinctive, boy. This is a phoenix. A bird of rebirth.” The pirate queen arched a brow. “What did you think it was?”

“Not a phoenix,” Kanan said as he took the crystal from her hands to turn it himself, his eyes squinting as if trying to make out the color. Kanan shook his head with a wistful smile before handing it back to her. “I can see a lot, but I guess I still can’t see everything.”

“Clearly,” Maz teased as she placed the lovely reddish-orange crystal bird back in the sack with the rest of Kanan’s history. She set it on the floor to take into her vault later, then watched as the man turned to face the door. “Leaving already?”

“Got work to do, Maz. Hera’s got missions lined up for what feels like the next month, and I think it’s time I start making a new name for myself. A better one.”

“Then I won’t keep you,” she replied as she watched Kanan go. “Bring Ezra along, next time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that boy. I’d love a visit.”

“I know he would too. How about the next time I come?” Kanan paused at the door to flash a roguish grin over his shoulder. “I’ll bring my whole family with me. Introduce you to all of them. Properly, this time.”

Maz’s old heart lifted with concealed approval and happiness for this man. Kanan Jarrus. She knew he’d had it in him.

“I’d like that.”

The old woman settled back in her seat after pouring a little more wine and listened to the door close behind Kanan. This time, as he left, she was content to find she wasn’t worried like she usually would be.

She smiled into her glass and listened to the silence of her library. Felt the subtle shift of the Force around her, and was pleased to find it felt smoother. Like something errant had been put in its proper place.

No. Maz Kanata wasn’t worried about Kanan Jarrus at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it! The end. Blackbird’s complete! 
> 
> What a journey this has been and I hope you’ve all enjoyed it from the beginning to the end. In case you forgot, the crystal Maz finds in the sack is the same one Okadiah gives Kanan on Gorse which Kanan mistakes as a blackbird. Thought it would be nice to end on a phoenix visual like that.
> 
> If you’re still reading this author’s note (and I hope you are) I have one final thing to add, and that’s on reviews.
> 
> PLEASE DON’T BE AFRAID TO REVIEW IF YOU HAVE THE URGE TO REVIEW. 
> 
> For those of you who are already reviewers, I give you hugs and lots of love. For those of you who are nervous about reviewing, who think it’s been too long since the story came out and that I won’t want to hear your words ten years from now, and those who are worried you’ll say something wrong, or that you won’t be able to appropriately express yourself, please don’t be. You could pound your fists on the keyboard and put a smiley face at the end and I would be over the moon. 
> 
> I will always want to hear your reviews and comments. I will always want to see and answer your questions if you have any. You might find this story a year, or five years, or ten years, or whenever from now and I WILL ALWAYS WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HOW THE STORY MADE YOU FEEL/THINK/WHATEVER. I worry sometimes that readers feel nervous about reviewing, but if you have something to say about Blackbird, I hope you won’t be :]
> 
> Anyway, that’s it! A super great place to keep up with me and my work (and to find out where my stories are going next) is on [my tumblr](https://okadiah.tumblr.com/). I’d love to hear from you there too :]
> 
> \- Oka


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